


Primogenitor

by MelodyCrystel



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Cross-Posted on deviantArt, F/M, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2018-11-01 12:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 209,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10921449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodyCrystel/pseuds/MelodyCrystel
Summary: When a woman chosen by Hydaelyn wakes Midgardsormr from his slumber, he can't augur the important lesson about mortals which the young Au Ra will teach him. But while he - shaped like a baby-dragon - accompanies the maiden, he discovers soon a bond to her that can't be denied despite his wish to do so. A link, which forces him to prioritize her life instead of his own immortality.





	1. Chapter 1

# Chapter One

A mortal child.  
So, she stood right in front of him.  
He had not ever met one of her species before, but she resembled his own race noticeable.  
Such a small creature she was; simultaneous careful and quickly in her movements like a butterfly. He would later learn, that one-hundred-fifty-eight centimeters were not at all tiny for a woman of her race, but now, this mortal was like an insect in his opinion.  
Yet, a pretty little earthworm, as the curves underneath her robe were visible smooth and her scales colored in the pale white like shells possess.  
She must have a good balance, because her thin tail with this graceful tip was compared to her body conspicuous long. Probably, these horns, which were presumably her ears, worked also properly; they were similar to those of sea-dragons.  
Her long hair flowed with the shine of metal in the moist air. It was very bright, yet no cold silver, as it appeared to be minimal yellow. This impression was strengthened through the golden peaks of each strand; making the hair white-golden in the light of the sunset.  
Here and there, he could see her skin, clearly. Rosy was her flesh everywhere; lively color in contrast to her decent scales. Not pale; not sickish, as much as he knew mortals. As much as he knew the five races that occupied Eorzea. She must be a healthy being. With lips reflecting the light like wet peach-petals in his lake did once on a beautiful day of spring...  
Yes, she was pretty through all these facts.  
Maybe the prettiest mortal he had ever seen standing so close to him.  
But nothing of these things could actually be compared partially to her striking eyes. Heterochromia; that was the word mortals used to describe this phenomenon. Odd-colored irises. And the girl owned even three different colors.  
Her left eye was a blue so bright and clear like ice. But it didn't look up to him with such coldness. Pure wonderment lay within the crystal. This, and pity. A strange sadness could be found in the iris while she watched his corpus. Never did he imagine to see one of another race grieve for his death. Not even his own children showed the vulnerability that loomed in her eye in this queer moment. Yet, the emotion was there; was real, and he silently questioned, why. Didn't she hate dragons like all the other mortals nowadays...? Those, who weren't 'heretics'...?  
Warmth lay within the other open window. It had a disturbing color – as red as his own were once, although as dim as all mortal eyes. But it shimmered gentle like a firefly at night; appealing to him even if he didn't want to feel this way. Luckily, the iris was framed with a second color, so it wasn't completely draconian. Dark gold bordered the red; turning her eye into a jewel. He could never fancy some worthless stones like her kind did – like all mortals did, but this was a piece of jewelry that even he would accept.  
But oh Hydaelyn, why did she come to visit his grave?  
Why came an innocent maiden like her? She was so painfully young...  
It didn't even matter, later, when he learned about her state as an adult with twenty years. To him, she was a child; a baby, perhaps. Someone who must be shielded from the evil of the world...  
It was better, to scare her away; now. Whatever she wanted here, he was sure she wouldn't find it. Not in a place like this. Not in his ancient, physically dead company.  
And after all, she was a mage. An archmage, how she called herself proudly, which he would later hear more than once from her. The girl had a preference for all magic in the world; at the most white-magic. She knew, what fighting meant. Knew the danger.  
Just one look at her weapon told him, that she wouldn't leave when nobody chased her off.

His voice rose for the first time after fifteen years of silent death:  
“Who treadeth now upon my bones and waketh me from slumber sweet?”  
The girl didn't seem to be surprised about his awake spirit. A mortal who wasn't afraid of dragons; this was new to him. She didn't even jerk, when his eyes glowed in their original color. Crestfallen; that he should be about this missing reaction, if there wouldn't be some kind of curiosity emerging within his consciousness. He wanted to test her limits. See, how far a 'banter' would go.  
It wasn't hard to free himself from his dead body and take a spectral form.  
When he was materialized like that – a blue, shining ghost – he said: “Thou hast forgotten the face of thy lord. Remember, mortal, and fear me.“ Again, she didn't even show the tiniest sign of fear. Not even a draconic roar seemed to scare the little worm. He wouldn't shoo her away, obviously. So, hopefully this mage was as tough as her weapon gave him the impression she could be.  
When he attacked the mortal, her little face beclouded with disapproval. She dodged the fire and shielded herself following with a barrier in order to strengthen her defensive, he presumed. However, he hit her already a few seconds later; confident of victory as she took lots of damage. But oh, OH, the maiden was indeed a true healer! With amazement he watched, how she healed all the wounds with the blink of an eye. Albeit he was even more amazed, when he heard suddenly for the first time her voice; soft and gentle, yet stern: “I didn't came here to fight you.”  
'I am certainly aware of this. But why did you came, maiden?' he thought puzzled for another time; not addressing this odd opponent formally in his mind.  
While the girl struggled and fought him with Stone- and Aero-magic, he realized she must be governed by the Mothercrystal; at least partly. There was a free will in the way she ran and jumped, but his sixth sense told him she relied too much on Hydaelyn. This mortal sought for the guidance of an existence who she could probably never serve well.  
Such a small, vulnerable being should not only wear a robe. An armor would suffice much better, albeit he couldn't imagine her honestly in such a cluster of metal. As she was a healer and magician, nothing heavy would fit her idea of a fight. Plus, her staff was indeed no toy. It was a relic-weapon, but much stronger than it should have been. The Thyrus had gained new powers. And he could tell, that his visitor was the reason for it. She had given the object light and probably also a soul.  
With the same sternness he saw in her eyes, the Whitemage attacked and healed until she was finally able to destroy his spectral form. Her patience and stamina were remarkable, wherefore some kind of reward seemed to be necessary. And in the end, he wanted to know, why she was here. Nothing had made him so curious in the last centuries like this girl.  
He stated: “By Her gifts hast thou earned a moment's reprieve. Speak, mortal, and I shall listen.” Sighing almost not audible, the girl told him shortly yet precisely, what had happened recently in the city of the sworn enemies of dragons. “... And that's why I'm here. I was asked to see, if you are the one who sang the song. If your resurrection was more than a myth. The other Warriors of Light are busy with planning the defense of Ishgard, but I was always somebody who wants to look over the edge of a plate. When I heard what the gleam of the star meant, I had to see you myself.”  
Patiently, he payed attention to every single word she spoke; a docile being. “Guided by a star...? Heh heh heh. My people have heard the song. Ishgard shall burn.” he asserted with the gruff humor of an old man, since he refused her kind affability. But it was still sad, that the girl was just a mortal. He had been flattered by her last words – and yet was. The sound her voice had made revealed, what no inhabitant of Ishgard would ever dare to think; not even as a child.  
She felt sympathy for him. A dragon.  
His rough explanation let her bite this shimmering underlip. The girl gazed with deepest frustration at him. Ah, did she knew it? That his kind would redeem the sin which mortals had committed...?  
“Sons must answer for their fathers' misdeeds. We do not forget. We do not forgive.” he answered the wordless accusation of her eyes. It was just the same with mortals. They never learned anything. Not from the past; not from the antiquity. Never.  
She shook her head and said: “This can't work when we are completely different compared to such almost-eternal creatures like you dragons are. So I'm begging you: Put an end to this silly war before it fully begins!” Oh, it was futile to beg him... He hadn't called for the massacre.  
He indirectly responded to her pleading: “Seven children did I sire. One now singeth of retribution. I rise to join in the chorus. Thou art powerless to silence us, mortal. Yet thou shalt not live to labor in vain. Thy reprieve is at an end.” It was just logical. Ishgard had caused all his seven children pain – and hence they should pay for it.  
Now it was the girl who surprised him: She made one step into his direction – emitting a blue light so significant bright he knew instantly to whom it belonged.  
A hint of exasperation got him: “Hrmph. Trickery is thy shield. This frail, ignoble creature is not gifted, but chosen... Hearken to me, Hydaelyn! I remember... and I consent.” He couldn't believe it, still... Hydaelyn had given this fool a gift with more importance than the girl deserved. It couldn't be the Mothercrystal's will to lend her now above all even his own force...

Meanwhile, confusion spread over the Whitemage's face.  
“Fear not, mortal... I shall not harm thee...” he spoke lowly to her.  
Just when he had finished his second sentence, he fired a yellow beam into her corpus; right there where her heart lay. He 'took' the Echo within the fragile, finite being with just a simple movement of his force away. It amused him to observe how she recognized the change immediately.  
“Heh heh heh. Mayhap thou thinkest me an oathbreaker? Thou art mistaken. If thou comest to harm, it shall be by another's hand, not mine. I did but strip thee of thy mistress's feeble blessing. Thou didst profit much by Her grace, but no more.” he explained his action to the girl.  
As her eyes – these open windows in different colors – let him see bewilderment like he had never seen before, he stooped to spirit the mortal; indirectly: “Feeleth my claw deep inside of thee, abject worm. It doesn't take the gift Her Grace gave thee. But it locketh thy talent deep inside of thy heart. Do not lament – who knows, when thy power would hast vanished by itself. In the beginning, Hydaelyn granted me protection and light. I am not entitled to arrogate her choice. But thou art after all weak; a mortal. Foolish and young.”  
Then, his spirit took once again a steady shape – but not again a spectral one. Now, he was so tiny like a baby-dragon; probably as helpless as such a newborn. For the first time, he really seemed to surprise the girl, as she stared up to him with a priceless expression. Smiling inwardly, he flew down to her and studied in-secret-excited the mortal at close range.  
He tried to help her grasp this wondrous, unexpected appearance: “This is a piece of my own body. A part of my soul rests within this one. He will accompany thee. What his eyes see, so do mine. What his ears hear, I hear.” The mortals eyes wandered over his small head with these ridiculous large eyes and long ears; over his slender upper-part of the body; the round hips beneath; tiny legs; pointed tail and bat-like wings, at last. Yes, he was in this shape indeed like a toy; a puppet.  
Flying slowly in circles around her head, the dim eyes of his disguise never let her face unobserved. Once more he assured the girl: “The covenant binds me to thee. I shall watch... listen... and wait. Fight and struggle, if it is thy will. Man hath ever coveted that which lieth beyond his grasp. If thou art more than a bearer of borrowed powers, thou can destroy my seal. I drink of Her body, and thence doth mine own find new life. When it hath grown whole, the loyal and penitent shall rejoice. Though, not for this war. It is not my own. The Dragonsong heraldeth a beginning... and an end. Soon, the decision is made.”  
When his words were spoken, he came again closer to the girl; waiting for a reaction.  
But seemingly, she was the one who surprised the other, as she walked simply away from him.  
“I have to report on the events within the Agrius.” ,she said without looking back, “Come with me, if you insist on it. But don't stumble on Garlean soldiers. I'm not sure if I would protect you now.” Ah, so she WAS angry about him. He had wondered, if this mortal was even able to feel anger. “Garlean soldiers, thou say...?” “Don't tell me, you wouldn't know when they pillage the wreckage. They are making noise wherever they go.” the girl responded with abhorrence. He chuckled lowly, before he caught up with her: “The fortunes of mortals are hard to follow if one is dead.”  
She stood abruptly still and gazed irritated at him: “If that's true, then how could I, of all things, wake you up?” “Thou art chosen. I presume, this is the specific difference.” he answered sincerely. “Hm, you are a strange dragon, Midgardsormr.” she addressed him for the first time by his name.  
He raised his brows and stated partly coy: “I have forgotten my manners...” “What do you mean?” “Thy name. I am bound to thee. I should know how thou art named.” While he spoke, his eyes glowed for a moment in their original color. The girl watched this and answered: “I see... Well, perhaps I don't want to tell you how people call me. Maybe, I don't know what I should think about this odd company you have suddenly become.”  
“Thou ART cross with me.” he assessed; confirming his conclusion aloud.  
“Partly. I had no access to the echo before I came to Eorzea. So, it's not like I'm that used to it. Albeit it was at times very essential; that's true.” the girl clarified, before she started walking again. “Whimsical...” he mumbled while he flew next to her. She smiled – a beautiful sight in his opinion – and said suddenly: “Ceci.” With confusion, he studied her face. “My name. It's Cecilia Shirone. Friends call me 'Ceci' or 'Cec'. Use the term which you prefer.” Cocking his head, he questioned: “Now I am a friend of thee...? Did I miss something thou speaketh?” “Hehe, not used to mortals, dear Midgard?” ,she said giggling, “We can be mad at someone and still see a friend in him. Perhaps you ancient things could learn at least one trait from us.”  
He alighted on her shoulder; not speaking a single word, while she went down the Agrius. Sighing, he watched the night-sky spreading over the horizon, whereas Cecilia's feet moved onto a rowboat. In the moment she paddled to the shore, the landscape made his heart clench, as his once beautiful, lively Silvertear Falls had truly turned into a desert of crystals.


	2. Chapter 2

# Chapter Two

Midgardsormr gazed at the odd mount Cecilia had just summoned.  
Eyes glowing while their expression became skeptical, he examined every centimeter of it.  
'And you are sure, that this creature is trustworthy?' he thought informal like he had done before.  
When she climbed at the white horse, he studied still for a few seconds the greenish mane and tail; the blank eye-sockets in the same color, before he landed on it's head. The creature felt unnatural, but when the girl directed the quadruped to the left, she unknowingly answered to his skepticism: “Xanthos was created by Garuda, according to a legend. The Ixal sacrificed her a black unicorn – called Nightmare – so she might have a servant as fast as the wind. But after we defeated that lady for the third time, we Warriors of Light are allowed to call him whenever we please. He is free, since the magical ankle she placed on him doesn't last any longer.”  
She didn't say anything else, so he focused on the environment. In the distance, he could see a tower so large and bright like the purest crystal; it lay in the opposite direction of their ride. He knew still, that this building had once been there, but he couldn't tell, when he had seen it for the last time. Centuries didn't mean anything to him, so he was unaware of the period it had been buried.  
The mortal recognized his line of vision, because she murmured: “A friend of mine is there... Someone, who's related to those who build the tower. He was granted – temporarily – with powers from his ancestors, so that he can fulfill their wish. But sadly, this gift meant to stop the towers time as well as his own, since he must make sure the technology within this building will not fall into uninformed or violent hands. … I miss him.”  
They rode to a settlement he remembered to be nothing more but ruins.  
Nowadays, mortals called it 'Revenant's Toll', and had established here a society which was outside of any city-state's jurisdiction. The 'Adventurer's Guild', so Cecilia told him, managed this town. She, personally, wouldn't stay here often as a slave-driver called Rowena made market-economical advantage of the sole monopoly she owned, but as the toll was the home of several good friends, Cecilia wasn't able to stay away for a longer while.  
The girl dismounted, when the horse reached the Aetheryte-crystal, so Midgardsormr followed suit. He watched it prance down the street with the grace of an unicorn, before he looked at his attender. “We'll go now to the 'Rising Stones', where I have to report back. It's the base of a group called 'Scions of the Seventh Dawn' – their leader, Minfilia, is one of my best friends. She's also touched by the Echo and follows Hydaelyns path with a faith even you'll find noteworthy.”  
When she walked into a crowded building, he slipped instantly under the hemline of her robe. Perhaps, this action irritated her, but the thought of being seen by so many strangers displeased him. Thanks to that, he clawed like a true baby-dragon into her right leg – alias knee-length, red boot – and let her carry his tiny body to the place she had talked about.  
He heard several people greeting her, so he wondered how popular this girl might be.  
As an ancient dragon, he didn't understand the mortals idea of stardom, but he grasped sociality. Furthermore, he knew, that all creatures – mortal and immortal together – preferred a bonnily shape. And when he thought of Cecilia being pretty, these foreign people did maybe the same.  
The girl opened a door after several steps. More voices welcomed her; this time very familiar, which let him come to the conclusion, that this here must be her destination. The Rising Stones. Cecilia yet didn't stop the walk, so he clung still to her leg; waiting for her to go wherever she must. Another door opened and closed behind her – only one voice reacted to her this time.  
Quickly he grasped, that this one was her friend Minfilia, so he listened curious to the young leader. Midgardsormr agreed very fast with Cecilias opinion: That woman was very faithful to Hydaelyn. She was intelligent – without question – since she suggested to keep it a secret, that he had 'taken' Cecilias Echo, but Minfilias blind trust didn't appeal to him.  
He, too, might never question the Mothercrystals plans, but as a dragon his demands considering freedom of will as well as action were conspicuously high. Seeing somebody walking blindly a path he or she did not even scrutinize made him a little sick.  
Anyway, there seemed to be another person who Cecilia had to give an account of the happening within the Agrius. But it wasn't the owner of a soft, male voice, who entered the room abruptly. Midgardsormr heard Cecilia call him Alphinaud – and he recognized a specific joy in her voice when she spoke to the boy. Snorting, he realized, that he didn't like this blitheness...  
The young leader distracted him from his displeasure. She suggested, that Alphinaud could explain the delicate details without diving to much into the subject, which the boy immediately accepted. So, Minfilia and the audible youngest member of the Scions went ahead.

Before Cecilia could follow them, he let go of her leg and slipped out of the robe.  
“Oh, so you decide to appear finally again?” the girl noted partly cynical; partly amused.  
His eyes glowed for a moment in severe contempt, but then he mildened under her friendly gaze. With a sigh, he replied: “Thy friend worries unnecessarily. The Echo is only sealed within thee. Never would I take it away. I am not presumptuous like mortals.” She gave him a gentle smile, which drew him a little closer to her face. “Do you want to know a secret?” the maiden asked. Confused, the dragon furrowed his brows while he stared perplexed at her. Giggling, Cecilia said: “Hydaelyn doesn't speak to me since we have defeated a Garlean general called Gaius Van Baelsar. The last time she said something, she helped me to free a dear Scion-friend who was possessed by an Ascian with the trait to support Gaius. But after that, I haven't heard from her again.”  
Unwillingly, his snout swung open without letting any sound escape.  
She closed smiling her eyes: “Really? You find that surprising? Then, you would be overwhelmed, if you had seen what I saw when the fight against Gaius was over...” “What hast thou seen...?” “Something like a dark crystal.” ,she began, “A dark crystal as large as the Mothercrystal herself. Probably even the same form like she owns. … I haven't told anybody about it before.”  
Midgardsormr folded his front-legs alias arms and stared with narrowed lids at the ground.  
“Her grace DOES have a counterpart... Thou art perhaps able to see him...” he mumbled lowly. Cecilia breathed audible in and whispered: “Tell me, Midgard... Can Hydaelyn become corrupted?” Surprised, he stared at her worried face. “No. At least I am sure of this.”  
A little relief spread over the girls sparkling eyes, although her smile wasn't honest.  
Cocking his still hilarious tiny head with the big eyes and ears, the dragon unfolded his arms. “Dread hast beset thee since that day...? Well, I shall be the one to assure thee: Thou art mistaken. Hydaelyn watches still over thee. Her grace is not corrupted.” he said and landed on the girls staff. Looking down to her, she had a certain spark in her odd-colored irises while she answered his gaze, which luckily confirmed – together with her tender grin – that she believed him.  
In the moment he realized her easement made him delighted, he hissed muted.  
Before she could say anything, the dragon vanished again under her robe.  
Cecilia just chuckled about his action and started moving.  
A knight from Ishgard already awaited the girl, when she stepped out of the room.  
Midgardsormr knew the smell of the city's inhabitants – he didn't have to see this kind of men, actually, in order to identify their origin. Albeit it was surprising, that the knight was a woman... 'Old-fashioned I have become.' he wondered silently.  
However, this mortal was a commander, as it seemed. Named Lucia Goe Junius – for short, Lucia – she sounded more than happy about the outcome of Cecilias visitation of the wreckage in his lake. Grounding his tiny fangs in disgust, the dragon decided to take a nap while the mortals began to talk with each other about the next steps how to protect Ishgard from heretics. His new, baby-like body was unfortunately as persistent as it looked like, so he simply clung to the boot of his mortal 'escort' and let his consciousness drift away.

When he woke up again under shining light, he smelled fresh air. A forest.  
His eyes opened with a mixture of pleasure and confusion, while he realized where he lay.  
“I'm really sorry.” ,Cecilia apologized with an embarrassed grin, “But I didn't want to crimp you. Therefore, I placed you on Xanthos' back instead of letting you to sleep on my boot. So, please, don't be angry with me, Midgard.” A little drowsy, still, he lifted his head and gazed at her face. “Thou art strange, maiden... But I do not mind.” To be honest, he found it delectable, how she cared for his well-being despite the fact that he had sealed her talent.  
Looking around, he asked: “Where hast thou taken me?” His eyes marveled the big trees, which had golden-brown leafs and smelled like autumn would be in fool bloom. “This here is the northern part of the Black Shroud. I want to visit a... let's call him 'a friend' of mine. He is Eorzeas most eccentric, but legendary blacksmith. Gerolt is the one who restored my Thyrus. Together with an alchemist from Radz-at-Han, Jalzahn, he will try to recreate a 'Zodiac Weapon'.”  
“I know about the Zodiac Braves.” ,Midgardsormr stated and put his head on her left thigh, “Uttermost, thou art notable for trying this task... Thy weapon has a light I could not label before, but with this knowledge, I do understand.” A smile flited over her mien, while she let Xanthos accelerate its movements: “Until now, it took me lots of time – and meanwhile even lots of money – to reach the current state of the Thyrus. But today, I hope all the effort will pay.”  
They rode to a small village – Hyrstmill. It looked like a plain, unremarkable settlement.  
“What is it? Did you expect something fancy?” the girl wondered. Shaking his head in confusion; incomprehension, he sat unhasty up – gazing at the villagers. “I thought mortals were... superficial. Why should such a blacksmith thou hast describe live here...?” he questioned. “Oh, in Gerolts case, that's simple to answer. He has many impositions. He's up to his ears in dept, to be precisely. Primary, he owes Rowena lots of money. Which is why Gerolt lives nowadays here and creates only articles of daily use instead of masterpieces.” his companion explained.  
When his eyes discovered a forge in the open, he wrinkled his nostrils in abhorrence. But not because of the typical smell of working with hot metal. The 'aroma', which disgruntled the dragon, was the fetidness of alcohol. Disbelieving, he stared at Cecilia, while she dismounted.  
“Thou art serious...?” he hissed. She sighed and nodded: “Yeah, he's an admiral of the red. Unintelligible, how he can be nevertheless such a genius, but he truly is one.” Entirely perplexed, Midgardsormr alighted on her shoulder; forgotten was the disapproval of being seen by strangers. “Beyond comprehension...” he mumbled and shook his head.

The smith was a huge Hyur with a bald skull.  
Also, his job seemed to fit his personality, as he sounded rough or rather rude while talking.  
Only one thing was enjoyable about him: He showed no interest for the being on Cecilias shoulder. Somehow this hurt Midgardsormrs pride, but on the other hand, it appeased him. Because of that, meeting this other supporter of her project – Jalzahn – turned also out to be uncomplicated. Especially, because that old man – considering the short lifespan of mortals – was polite and adroit. Nothing compared to the splenetic alcoholic.  
“Is Whitemage already here, yes?” a squeaking voice asked suddenly.  
Cecilia smiled and turned around: “It's 'Archmage', Mutamix. However, I'm glad you could come.” Midgardsormr stared from her shoulder irritated down at a creature that could only be a goblin. “Turning staff into materia is risky, still.” the little guy said and looked to Gerolt and Jalzahn; obliviously seeking for their opinion, “Chance is 1,54 percent. If I fail, Thyrus is gone forever.” Appalled, she frowned: “Really THAT minimal...? Uhm... I'm not sure if we should try it...”  
Her weapon was dear to her. He had recognized that, while they were fighting against each other. And obviously, he wasn't the only one knowing this. The alchemist stated: “Well, even if we could reconstruct a true Zodiac Weapon, I do not seek for losing or rather destroying your Thyrus. Nothing is worth it to give up the staff for which you have invested so much time and dedication. We can't take this risk when all your effort is on a Knife-edge balance.”  
“Ye are fooling me, right?!” ,Gerolt snarled, “Ye guys can't give up now! Not after all the work! Let's do it, Mutamix! Show us yer master-skills!” And with these confident words, the blacksmith grabbed the weapon and gave it into the hands of the goblin. Midgardsormrs eyes ripped themselves in the same way open like Cecilias as well as Jalzahns did. That Hyur was mad...!  
If mortality was a magnet for madness, than Gerolt must be the biggest he had ever seen. But still, nobody could disavow the brilliant intuition he must have, because Mutamix was indeed successful. Staring through his mask with perceptible incredulity as well as relief, the goblin panted: “Look... Materia is succeeded. Now, blacksmith must finish work.”  
Although he was a creature without any greater interest for men, he couldn't claim, that he wouldn't be fascinated by this odd scene. Astonishment had taken him in the second the goblin had appeared, but now he found himself in the same situation like Cecilia was probably in since weeks or months: Curiosity and impatience were drastic present in the moment in which Gerolt swung his hammer. And when the blunt man was finally finished, Midgardsormr felt eased.  
Tired and obviously only thinking about a drink as some kind of personal reward, Gerolt handed Cecilia an object out which Jalzahn called 'Nirvana'. While the old alchemist reflected on boring, historical facts, the dragon was busy with studying the staff. A weapon seemingly spun of gold; adorned with several small jewels and one big exemplar in the middle of the weapons 'head'. Somehow, the design reminded of leafs, but there was also the similarity to a dragon's face...  
The weapon was in any case beautiful. But something was still missing...

Jalzahn was the first one who actually said it: There was no soulful light.  
While the old man and Gerolt discussed the absent phenomenon, Midgardsormr watched silently how Mutamix said goodbye to Cecilia and left the event for whatever place the goblin called home. Snorting, he wished in secret to follow him, as the presence of men was quite arduous. Yet, it was not suitable to do what his impulse told him, since he had decided to watch over this maiden...  
Hoping, that the two Hyur would soon come to a conclusion, he persevered.  
It was the blunt blacksmith who came up with an idea.  
Being an alcoholic, he tended naturally to ruin friendships – and one of these fails could be the key for turning the Nirvana into a true Zeta-Zodiac-Weapon. Gerolt suggested, that Rowena might know where his former friend could live nowadays – and that this man was perhaps good-natured enough in order to help an adventurer out despite an acquaintance with him; the drunkard.  
Midgardsormr wasn't convinced of this logic – neither were Cecilia nor Jalzahn.  
The alchemist was sure, that a customer of 'Mr. Sourpuss' wouldn't get a chance to even say a word, so he requested Gerolt to abandon his (well-deserved) reward-wine and let the girl deliver the bottle instead to his former friend. She agreed instantly to this expedient plan with a wide smile, which allowed the blacksmith no drawback. Mourning the loss pf booze, he gave in.  
'Finally!' the dragon thought when Cecilia took the wine and called Xanthos subsequent.  
He hopped on the horse's head when it arrived; impatiently waiting for the maiden to climb up, too. When she let the creature leave the village in a satisfying gallop, he spoke without reserve: “Honestly, thou hast shaken my world-view with this example of human queerness! Never did I met a creature with such a given talent and inborn imbecility like this Gerolt possesses! I envy thee for enduring this man since the second thou hast decided to restore the relic. Because I could not do it.” Cecilia laughed lightly – a tune so pleasant to his hilarious big ears like the whisper of a fairy. “Probably he is way too eccentric, yes, but all the trials for this weapon were worse than he can be. Even when he has a headache-day after drinking a lot in the evening before.”  
Midgardsormr didn't add a matching, cynical slogan – for her sake.  
“We will reach Mor Dhona in five minutes, but we have to cross Coerthas Central Highlands.” ,Cecilia changed the topic, “I recommend you to not sit directly on Xanthos' head.” “Why art thou persuaded of this suggestion?” he asked and gazed at her over his left shoulder. “You'll see... Probably, it's better when you experience it by yourself – and awake, this time. After all, we already went together through Coerthas before, you know.” she explained casually.  
He didn't know, what to think about this phrase, but when Xanthos left the Northern Shroud behind, an ice-cold wind streamed directly onto his face. It felt so stinging sharp, that the dragon was forced to close his big eyes. Midgardsormr hid his body in the horse's neck alias mane; warming himself for several seconds within the greenish hair. While he rubbed the eyes with these tiny 'arms' he had, he grumbled audible: “This does not feel like the Coerthas I am used to...”  
He jerked, when he suddenly felt Cecilias soft hand on his back. “I apologize for not informing you, but this place became after the catastrophe five years ago a wasteland of snow and ice. When you're not expecting the harsh wind of this region, the air can be worse than fire.” The dragon nodded, before he unwillingly shivered thanks to another sharp gust which ran from the left side over him. Folding his wings, he tried to shield his flesh, but it was useless...  
Her hand was finally the wall which stood between him and the cold. The maiden pressed it stronger against the freezing cells based on his reaction to the wind. “Are you alright...?” she asked; rubbing gently up and down his spine. He wasn't used to be touched by mortals, so he tensed reflexively under the foreign contact. Still, he forced himself to answer her: “It is this body... Draconian, yet new... Before it stands the cold, there must be a mild change of temperature. Otherwise, this shape suffers easily under the climate.”  
She began to massage his small back. Warm, skilled fingers glided sensual over his trembling skin. But Midgardsormr didn't like her touch a fortiori it lasted. Cecilia made him uncomfortable, although he could tell that she really wanted the opposite to occur. He ground his fangs while he tried to endure it; squinted the eyes in desperation. No mortal could be fully trusted – not even one in such a pretty shape... He felt vulnerable in this baby-like form.  
“Stop touching me...!” he finally snapped and prevented himself by a hair's breadth from biting Cecilias hand. He felt the glare his glowing eyes gave the surprised woman, who scratched resulting her left cheek in nervousness under their stinging red. “I-I'm sorry... I didn't mean to annoy you...” she apologized with a sad expression. When he looked away with constricted lids, the maiden added with a lack of courage: “I just wanted to warm you, Midgard...”  
Staring at the winter-landscape which passed by, Midgardsormr sighed muted.  
“How can thou act kindly to a dragon...?” he wanted to know – the sin mortals had committed floated over him like a dark cloud. Cecilia chuckled halfhearted: “Probably I'm not related by blood to your kind... At least that's what scientists tell us Au Ra. But... There's no reason to hate you guys on a personal level. I'm even happy that I got the chance to meet you.”  
He gulped hardly. There it was again. This specific 'you'...  
The word which let him regret, that she was no dragon. Undeserving to be protected by him.  
While he recognized how the air became warmer and the snow vanished from the grass, it seemed, as if the same did happen to his core. This fragment inside of him, which wanted to disengage from the reservation he demonstrated whenever he felt like getting attached of the young chosen one. Noticing this erased the burning expression in his eyes; dimmed them until they were no longer glowing and piercing. Instead, they became neutral, so he looked again into her irises.  
'The crystal and the jewel.' he thought while he studied them peacefully. She could obviously see the calmness he had regained, although he was sure she didn't know, that he was amazed by the fact how she brought him to the point of wishing to trust her truly. The girl strengthened his sentiment even more, when she gave him with these petal-lips a smile as beautiful as the sunrise over his lake. His expression became gentle; almost longing, since he had missed this kind of mortal beauty – sympathy – since eternities. To have for the first time a friend who belonged to the species man after such a long period made him almost sentimental.

Snorting, Midgardsormr sat on Cecilias shoulder and eyeballed the announced slave-driver.  
He recognized instantly this unpleasant charisma which Rowena possessed. The businesswoman might wear a pretty black dress which masked her tough attitude, but he nevertheless condemned her hauteur since a dragon could never be easily fooled by a nice appearance.  
Albeit this mortal was money-grubbing, she didn't want a payment when his companion asked her about the domicile of Gerolts former friend. Rowena had heard of the final Zodiac-project, wherefore she wanted to help Cecilia in order to see a Legend come to life. The female Hyur added, that she wasn't sure, if her workmate would cooperate, since it had been a very private skirmish... But this weapon was still worth a visit at his place; Swiftperch.  
“Buh, why does it have to be La Noscea...” the maiden complained while she left the building alias Rowena's residence of economical monopole. Midgardsormr stared irritated at her gloomy face. “Why art thou crestfallen?” Grinning embarrassed, she replied: “You know, I'm a real nitpicker when it comes to money. At least that's how I would describe myself... And my friends do that, too. After all, I don't like to waste Gil for teleport. That's the reason why I use the Aetheryte crystal in Manderville Gold Saucer. This funfair is the perfect free launching pad for using airships, because they are a lot cheaper than instant-traveling. Additional, flying to Ul'dah is gratuitous.”  
He furrowed his brows: “I do not understand.” “We're teleporting there, now. Because we'll have to. Otherwise, it would take too much time in order to reach our first destination, Limsa Lominsa. Although I'm not sure, if you will like Gold Saucer...” While she started the free teleport-magic, Midgardsormr thought grumpily: 'Not, when it is a popular spot...'  
Reaching aforesaid place, the dragon wrinkled his nostrils and looked around.  
“Tacky. Garish.“ ,he hissed, “This is no funfair in conventional sense. It is rather hell.”  
She didn't react to his words, albeit he could swear, that there was a grin lurking on her lips.  
Cecilia started walking, so he decided to do the same. Flying next to her, they passed many people; soon reaching a crowd in the centre of the 'amusement-park'. There, he recognized several other members of her kind – other Au Ra, as she had entitled the race. Some had white scales like her; some owned black ones. When it came to the male beings, women were very small in comparison. But when he only looked at the females, then his companion was quite tall.  
“Hast thou a remarkable height...?” he wondered aloud without thinking about it.  
“Yes, I have.” ,she confirmed smiling, “Seemingly, I'm one of the tallest girls of the Au-Ra-species who have ever placed a food into Eorzea. Although my height isn't special when you look at others. Already Miqo'te are often larger than we Raen as well as the Xaela are.”  
'Raen...' he tried to memorize the name of her kind.  
When they reached the airport, he eyeballed the machine which landed just in this moment. Luckily, it was a lot tinier than the Agrius, because he did not take the reminder of his physical death well. The sensation of the airships' explosion – the way how it burned his skin – went over his awareness like it would happen in this very minute. Shaking his head slightly, he took a seat on the Nirvana and let the Whitemage carry him to this metallic object.

The flight didn't last long.  
Much faster than expected, they reached the isle-state La Noscea.  
Relieved, as he felt clearly awkward on the construction, the dragon left the ship before Cecila. Hovering in the middle of the airport, he waited for the mortal to follow him. She wasn't in a hurry, wherefore he presumed, that she must be glad to have finally reached the basis of a Zodiac weapon.  
Surely the maiden was tired after investing so much effort into the staff...  
Midgardsormr returned once more to her shoulder when she asked a man, a Roegadyn-Marauder in a yellow shirt, to let her use the lift. While she stood within the small machine, she told to him: “We'll go now to the Lower Decks. Be warned: There are many people around the Aetheryte, which allows us to go directly to the Fisherman's Bottom. I hope you will not feel stressed until we reach the peaceful port, after Gold Saucer seemed to be already vexatious... However, we will use a ferry that takes us to Western La Noscea – the area were Swiftperch is located.”  
He wondered silently, why she always explained these things to him. In this shape, he mustn't be more than a puppet, minion or accessory in the eyes of mankind. It was doubtful, if people even tried to talk with their decorative companions. Did they even speak to their pets...?  
The salty smell of the sea streamed through his nostrils when Cecilia stepped out of the lift.  
Albeit there were indeed way too many men around, he was too busy with studying Limsa Lominsa as if he could pay that much attention to the crowd. Outside of the hall in which they stood for now, he was able to locate white stone wherever no blue water framed the horizon. It scented like chalk, so he presumed, that the city was build with materials from the island as well as ocean. The maiden began to walk into the direction of the city itself – probably used to the bright sunshine at this place, as she didn't blink like he had to. The salt in the air stung a little as they left the hall, but he liked it since the breeze covered the penetrative fetidness of the population.  
Midgardsormr was grateful, that the Aetheryte-crystal was directly in front of them.  
At Fisherman's Bottom, the sea ranged almost over the entire environment. The port was quiet; exactly like Cecilia had promised. Here, he smelled lots of seafood in the air – the fishermen were surely very industrious. Because their guild was just behind them, he peered into the building. Curiosity considering men wasn't usual for the dragon, but he could not deny, that he had always possessed a weakness in matters of fishing.  
“Look, there's our boat.” ,the girl caught his attention with her calm voice, “When we reach Aleport – the haven of Western La Noscea – it's just a short ride until we can look for the wanted man.” Melancholy, he took another look at the fisher-guild, since he would really like to have a few bites, but as Cecilia was already moving, the dragon didn't tell her about his wish.  
It was a short, enjoyable drive over the sea. If he had still possessed his original, large dragon-body, then he would love nothing more but swimming in the salty blue. A little nostalgic, his eyes focused at the shining tides and white foam until they left the ferry in Aleport.  
Cecilia wanted to call Xanthos, but a sudden noise interrupted her whistling.  
“Uhm, Midgard?” she said and studied him with raised brows. Avoiding her gaze in embarrassment, he floated into the air; not letting the girl see his face. “I am... hungry.” he admitted quietly. Actually, he was urgently hungry... Starving. But it would hurt his pride or rather dignity to tell her, that he needed already food. For him, it wasn't usual to eat directly after ending his slumber. Normally, a few days with an empty stomach wouldn't matter.  
“Why didn't you say anything in Limsa Lominsa?” the maiden asked irritated. He didn't respond, since it had been shameful enough to utter his weakness aloud. Midgardsormr couldn't explain her additional the reason for his disability to take care of his hunger by himself – as the helplessness of this body frustrated him more than tolerable... Hence, he kept his muzzle shut.  
“Hey, do you like fish?” she wanted to know all of a sudden. With widened eyes, he turned around and watched Cecilia with astonishment. “Yes or no...? After all, you seemed to be very interested into the fisher-guild.” ,the maiden added with arms akimbo, “You must communicate with me, whenever there's something you want to have or need. I can't read your mind, after all.”  
Shyly, he affirmed her question: “Yes... I would like to have two or three bites...” Grinning widely, Cecilia nodded and flicked her fingers. Without warning, she switched her class – from Whitemage to a gathering class; to Fisher! He was surprised, that this pretty being was someone who enjoyed something as 'boring' as fishing. It was no hobby for mortal woman, as much as he knew...  
Holding an ordinary-looking fishing-rod over her right shoulder, she walked to the edge of the pier – wearing cheap clothes in red, rose and beige colors. While the girl cast the rod, he was stunned, how good the clothing looked despite its simplicity. It must be her... She made it look handsome. Above all, the vest allowed him to see her bare arms; lively skin with decent white scales.  
He couldn't help but licking his lips because of the delightful view.  
The species 'Au Ra' resembled dragons truly a lot...  
Cecilia stood patiently like a statue on the pier for an half minute. Then, she abruptly raised the rode lickety-split with a determined motion – surprising him as he hadn't foreseen her action. However, she really had caught a fish; a big mackerel. The wriggly animal didn't stay alive for a long while outside of the water, although she treated it careful as she walked back to him.  
“We should perhaps borrow a pan from the restaurant.” ,the maiden suggested, “Sadly, I'm no cook with own utensils, so I can only offer a campfire.” “This is not necessary. The raw fish is just fine. Eating unboiled flesh is natural for dragons.” he responded calmly. Cecilia nodded slightly and placed the fish for him at the ground. Midgardsormr landed immediately next to the dead animal, where he buried his fangs with pleasure in the fresh meal.  
He felt her gazes all the time while he ate. The mackerel tasted so wonderful, that he consumed even the fish-bones – which seemed to disgust the young woman a little bit. Ah, that was right... Men were not glad about the way how the tiny bones poked into the throat. They favored removing everything from the flesh which wasn't soft and 'acceptable clean'.  
Yet, she didn't demonstrate her disrelish when she knelt down in front of him. “Would you like another fish? Or do you wish for something else? Fresh fruits, maybe? I could gather you Oranges, for example, since I'm a Botanist. Clear water is also no problem. I'm a Miner, too.” she suggested with a gentle smile. The dragon wasn't sure, if he enjoyed her direct friendliness, so he gave her – while his eyes glowed brightly – perhaps a very gruff response: “No. I need neither lots of food nor often repasts, fool. I am no being of mankind like thou art, so I can exist with very little nutriment. When my stomach is not empty, it would be a waste to fill it even more.”  
“Oh, okay... I didn't mean to bother you with my offering... Sorry for that...” she mumbled with lowered eyelids and stood up as a sad expression spread over her face. She switched back to her original class as a Whitemage plus turned away from him, which let him somehow experience guilt. Confused by himself, he flew to her shoulder, where he murmured: “I enjoyed the mackerel a lot. The fish was delicious... So, I hope thou art not crestfallen about my refuse. I really am sated.” Worry glided over his mien as she didn't react, which made his eyes more dim than her own were. Unsettled, he placed his left 'hand' on her neck, although he didn't recognize his doing.  
Following, Cecilia looked at him with widened, perplexed irises.  
Midgardsormr jerked unnoticeable when realization hit him, but the sensation of her scales prevented him from retiring. They were so fragile and soft... Flexible. Similar to his baby-like body. But in opposite to himself so comfortable warm... The scales reminded his instincts of the need which all babies in the world had: Being close to a mother.  
Granting him a wide smile, the maiden said abruptly: “Hehe, that's a relief. Thank you.” Nodding, he looked away as his 'hand' slipped slowly – reluctantly from her neck. She couldn't be a mother; someone who replaced this role for him. He was too old as if he could behave like a child. However, he didn't fear THAT idea... Mortals who cared for dragon-babies as well as -children had been once a serene, delightful sight in his opinion. He would have never rejected a similar care.  
But there was another thought... Another impulse which scared him.  
Because of her scales... he could forget, that she was humanely. 

Swiftperch was an excuse of a settlement.  
There were not many people – and considering the environment, the reason for the small population was the lack of fertility. Sparse soil and lots of rocks didn't allow a rich cultivation of vegetables, fruits or corn. He wondered, how anybody could seek to repeople this area.  
While Midgardsormr observed the little crowd from Cecilias shoulder, she found the wanted man with the precision of a skilled detective. If the tiny dragon had measured the time since their arrival, he bet it would have been only 20 seconds. Obviously, she as an adventurer was used to look for other persons (or objects, respectively).  
The maiden discussed just for a short moment with Gerolts Ex-friend, as he was – for a wonder – interested into the Zodiac-project, too. He gave her voluntary the catalysts she needed in order to bestow the Nirvana with light, but he warned her, that the 12 so-called Mahatmas would consume several hours until they would contain enough energy. She shrugged grinning and explained calm, that she hadn't slept in the whole last night, wherefore it wouldn't matter if she had to stay awake until the beginning of the next day or could get today a few hours rest.  
The dragons ears twitched impulsively as he listened to these words.  
'I have forgotten... Mortals need a lot of sleep... How could I lose sight of this...?' he thought.  
While Cecilia prepared for – like she named it – 'routinely gathering of light via clobbering beasts', he sat on the ground and wanted to know: “If I am allowed to ask, what hast thou done at night? Were there more conferences thou did not tell me about?” She shook giggling her head and replied: “No, I was only doing several things for the Adventurer's Guild. As I told you: I'm a Botanist. Therefore, I delayed my personal weapon-project a little and helped instead out with preventing all the crystal from spreading furthermore over the plants in Mor Dhona.”  
Midgardsormr dug quietly deeper: “Well, when thou art finished with completing the Nirvana... What exactly is thy next plan? I presume, thou hast orders from Ishgard...?” “As if I was employed at any place of Eorzea.” ,she stated sarcastic, “You should have heard of the city's handling of us. Coerthas, in general, treats adventurers like strangers who should better stay out of their business. We fool too much around, in other words. So, I get no 'orders'.”  
The dragon was entirely confused. Did he hit a nerve with his assumption?  
Cecilia giggled – presumably because of his hilarious face... Then, she added: “Tomorrow, I'll meet the other Warriors of Light in Coerthas. In Camp Dragonhead. For today, there had been nothing which adventurers could do for Ishgard, since the temple knights had to organize themselves at first. That's seemingly the main priority of the city-state: Their own system... Well, therefore, we'll hear only tomorrow of the plans which Sir Aymeric might have developed meanwhile in order to protect the city from heretics as well as dragons. As he's an authoritarian, intelligent head of the knights, there will be presumably a grave undertaking.”  
With narrowed eyelids and knitted brows, Midgardsormr harrumphed: “Thou would do much better, when thou would simply stick to thy own, weird ideas of forging weapons, catching fish and chopping some wood... Supporting Ishgard is an incorrect decision.” “Then, can you enlighten me, please, why you disdain my wish to assist people in need of help? … … Tell me!” she demanded, but he didn't answer her at all. Instead, he curled up to a perfect circle and pretended to sleep.  
He grinned diabolical, when he heard her grumbling about his behavior.

Although sleep was tempting, the dragon stayed awake.  
He watched her endlessly battle against hundreds of monsters. As a healer, her attacks were weaker than those of other adventurers he saw, but her defense possessed greater limits than the dragon had originally assumed. Cecilia didn't cure herself in the same intervals he had seen when she fought against him. Also, she was quite cooperative, since she supported both amateurs and experts. Probably, she was a team player – and not a solitary person like her first traits hinted.  
It was already--- just afternoon, when she had to fill the last Mahatma with light. As these items were attributive to the zodiac signs, she had completed all of them but Pisces. The constellation with two fishes as its symbol was her own zodiac – she told him that after obtaining the object.  
He raised his brows while this personal information settled in his head.  
Since Midgardsormr had learned a few things about astrology, he knew, that people who were born in this zodiac sign possessed characteristics like empathy, sensitivity and naivety. To be more clear: The constellation was indeed perfect for the soft maiden with all these quirks. Yet, he couldn't claim to be not glad to know – thanks to this accident – the month of her birth. After all, he didn't refuse sensitive creatures just because they were 'weak'.  
In the moment Cecilia filled the Mahatma with the last drops of light, he watched contended how the young woman began to rejoice. Jumping around like a small child that had been granted with uncountable birthday-presents, she reminded him of in fact of fishes splashing lively in his lake. These sea-dragon-ears of her strengthened that impression. He imagined her joining the creatures who populated his home; with a body similar to a water-snake or mermaid.  
Chuckling, he flew to her and took a seat on the Nirvana. She didn't recognize him – so great was the happiness she experienced. For a moment, he let her continue; enjoying her jumps and the way how her movements caused an impact on his body akin to small earthquakes. After one minute, Midgardsormr cleared finally his throat: “Thou hast to return to the shroud, I think?” She gazed with wonderment up to him; slowing down her movements. “That's correct. Ehm, you must find it stupid to celebrate something like that before the goal itself is even reached, hm...?”  
A soft smile glided over his face; reaching his eyes so they sparkled like stars in the evening-sky. “No, I do not. For mortals, weeks and months mean a greater amount of time than for us dragons. This is something I grasp about thee. Therefore, thy joy makes sense to me. Thou art glad to reach the end of a long way.” the dragon uttered while clear sympathy flowed through his body.  
Cecilia answered his smile when the last word had left him. His own, on the other hand, vanished. Widening his eyes, he stared down at petal-lips which reflected the light and cheeks that blushed intensely in pink color – both things delicate and appealing to him. Not to forget these pretty irises... Tenderness and passion 'served up on a plate'... He was shocked how she made him feel.  
Looking away from her with an aimless gaze, he swallowed and asked casually: “Thou hast nothing against a direct teleport to thy destination...? I would be glad to avoid the crowd in Gold Saucer.” His hilarious big ears noticed her low laughing before she responded: “That would be too expensive in my opinion. But when it comes to Gridania, I have a cheap option for teleporting, so you'll see definitely no large population. We use the transport to the building of the Free Company I joined when I was a newbie. It's very quiet there, since there are rarely many people around. Also, there is beautiful flora everywhere as well as a pretty lake.”  
She let him no chance to protest. The teleport happened instantly.  
When he wanted to open his muzzle in order to spit a little fire at her as some kind of punishment, Midgardsormr froze as his body got distracted. Clear air with the smell of lavender surrounded him and soothing light shined at healthy plants, so that their green leafs as well as purple-blue petals drew his attention to them. There was also a garden with a small house directly in front of him, where lupines and sunflowers grew. The scent of animals was also there.  
“That's the private ground of our Free Company.” the maiden explained proudly. His eyes recognized the sign next to the garden-entrance – 'Heavenly Strike' was written on the brown wood. Before there was a possibility to ask her, what a Free Company was, she stated: “Ah, just look! There's my darling, Edgar.” Confused, Midgardsormr looked around, until his gaze found the only other creature that walked around: A snow-white Chocobo.  
Surprisingly graceful, the big bird went with unhurried steps to Cecilia. He gave a tender 'Kweh.', when he reached the girl. She placed her hands at the Chocobos neck and left cheek, which created a loving expression in the chocolate-brown bird-eyes. Midgardsormr stared disbelieving at them, because he felt illogical jealously. Hissing, he shook his head with squinted eyes.  
What was wrong with him? Jealous...? Of a bird...? Ridiculous...  
“I love Xanthos and so on, but Edgar here is my beloved companion. I know that some people don't like the smell Chocobos have, but I think it's a good one.” the girl said laughing as the bird tipped with his beak against her neck so that it must tickle her. “Hehe, I think he's a little angry with me since I kept him here for a few days without visiting.” ,she added and patted the animals head, “Sometimes, there's just nothing to do for him, wherefore my friends take care of him until I have again duties for him as a combatant. Otherwise, he would just find it boring to accompany me. Although 'vacation' seems to be a word he hates.” That keyword was indeed something the bird seemed to disapprove, because he pecked Cecilias head slightly.  
She didn't mind this but giggled. While the dragon watched that in incomprehension, she went to the Chocobos left flank and checked its saddle. Just when she suddenly climbed on Edgars back, Midgardsormr jumped down from the Nirvana because something hard had hit him. Lightheaded, he stared – cumbrous flying in the air – to the maiden. As she looked taken aback at her Chocobo, he followed her gaze. Just in order to see unfriendly brown eyes poseing him with their stare.  
“Edgar! Why did you peck him?! He's just a baby-dragon!” she scolded. Shaking his head minimal because the feeling of dizziness didn't go away, he mumbled: “No need to lie about me... Thy bird is surprisingly intelligent... He senses, that I am not what my appearance claims to be...”  
Cecilia reached out for the dragon while she eyeballed her companion: “Well, you'll allow Midgard to ride on you. Otherwise, buddy, the two of us will have an unpleasant argument about your food. And I bet you are not interested into going on a diet.” The bird gave a downfallen 'Kwe-heh...' plus focused his gaze on Midgardsormr with discontent, albeit he didn't try to attack the dragon again. Distrustful, both of them studied each other without moving a single nerve, until the maiden sighed. When they looked resulting irritated at her, she gripped fast as lightning the smaller creature and placed him at her shoulder. “Let's hurry. It's almost evening.” she muttered.

While their journey to Hyrstmill lasted, Midgardsormr let her explain, what 'FCs' were.  
Similar to the state-run 'Grand Companies of Eorzea', 'Free Companies' were designed to comply errands as well as deliveries. But they were not bound to the city states, because adventurers organized the whole system themselves, wherefore there existed groups for simply every purpose. Additional, their members often supported each other or became even good friends, which was why it applied to be common for beginners to join a FC before even considering a GC.  
“I joined The Order of the Twin Adder, by the way. I may love pirates a lot, but the people of Limsa aren't directly what I would call true corsairs. They pretend to think about others, but whenever there's something they 'need', it's clear that they don't stick to their words from before. A real pirate doesn't have to lie, because that's the trait of a mere thief. And let's be honest... Limsa Lominsas Admiral of The Maelstrom, Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn, is not even half as personable as the General of Ul'dahs Immortal Flames, Raubahn Aldynn. She denies, that she acts way too often like a pirate, while he looks into the future instead of constantly clinging to the loss of Ala Mhigo. If I wouldn't love Gridania plus the Black Shroud like I just do, then Ul'dah would catch me long before Limsa could even try to invite me.” the Raen told him while they reached the settlement.  
In front of Gerolts forge, they dismounted – an action clearly welcome to Edgar, because he tried instantly to peck Midgardsormr once more. But this time, the dragon had reckoned with an attack, for which reason he spat immediately a small salvo of blue fire. This warning was enough in order to prevent the Chocobo from the notional assault. Grumbling – something like 'Kweh, Kwe-e, heh.' – the bird retired unwillingly. Assured of success, the dragon chuckled spiteful.  
“Was that really necessary...?” Cecilia asked lowly, while she walked into the direction of Gerolt. Nodding, Midgardsormr answered: “Thy bird does not fear me. He is a brave one. Therefrom, reprehension in a more aggressive manner is the only way to upbraid him.”  
Eyes-rolling, the girl shook her head, before she greeted the blacksmith with a smile.  
It didn't even take an half minute, until Jalzahn appeared, who grinned now like a young wag because of the upcoming event. The alchemist had once arrived in Eorzea with the hopes of recreating a Zodiac-Weapon, but surely he had never expected to truly fulfill his goal... Somehow, Midgardsormr envied the old man for this completion of a dream. Mortals could spend their whole, short life with something as stupid as well as inspiring like a wish... They wasted it surely, yet it was so much more meaningful in comparison to the almost eternal existence of a dragon...

With amazement, they all stared at the finished weapon – the Nirvana Zeta.  
As the two Hyur encouraged her to do so, Cecilia grasped hesitant the new-forged legend. The light, which the object emitted abruptly under the maidens touch, looked just like golden wings coming from the 'head' with this leafy design. Now, it had finally become a true Zodiac-Weapon – an object with a very own, fully awake soul. A soul, that was loyal to nobody but a one person on Hydaelyn. Midgardsormr wondered silently, if the men realized this...  
While Gerolt and Jalzahn started to discuss a bagatelle considering the alchemists ancestor – plus battled for some inconsequential title which they both didn't want to share with another man, Cecilia scratched embarrassed her left cheek as she watched the two Hyur. “I hope they will not expect from me to chose one of them to be the rightful 'Z' alias 'Smith of Stars'...” she whispered. Folding his front-legs alias arms, the dragon responded muted: “Such a trifle... Why is it necessary to argue with each other...? Both men were helping thee to obtain a full-fledged Zodiac-Weapon. Therefore, the title belongs to every person who worked actively in order to reach thy goal.” “Which would make Mutamix a legendary smith, too.” “The goblin? Thou would share the title voluntary with a member of a Wild Tribe?” he asked perplex. “Sure. He's a friend, after all. Additionally, he's a real genius and somehow very cute.” the maiden answered smiling.  
Shaking his head, he fell silent again. Their world-views couldn't be more different...  
Luckily, Gerolt returned soon to his work – a pot made of iron – so that the stupid bagatelle ended. At least for now, because Midgardsormr recognized more than clearly enough within the following conversation between Cecilia and Jalzahn, that the old guy would still insist on his right to inherit the title of his ancestor. Pah, men were such egregious fools...  
His gloomy mood became brighter, when he looked random up to the sky.  
'Beautiful.' he thought as his eyes wandered over the slowly-spreading purple and appearing stars. Just as if she had heard the dragons mind, Cecilia raised her gaze and stated: “And here comes another pretty evening in the Black Shroud. I think I'll stay tonight in Gridania.” Jalzahn chuckled: “Sounds like a good plan to me. Although I wouldn't mind your company in Hyrstmill. Closing time can be very exhausting for me alone, when Gerolt has again one over the eight. The residents here may have adjusted to this admiral of the red, but I find it still troublesome to watch him.”  
Thanks goodness the Au Ra didn't change her mind easily.  
Eventually, the admiral-keyword alone was enough to disgust Midgardsormr.  
He was glad when the maiden walked away from the forge, albeit the sparkling chocolate-eyes of the feathered devil displeased him in the second he saw them again. Edgar came threatening close to them, but the white bird had fortunately no interest into trying another pecking-assault. Docile, the bird nestled to her face with a soft 'Kweh-kweh.' – just as if he wanted to congratulate Cecilia on reaching finally her goal. Either he ignored Midgardsormr for now, or he really didn't care for him. The former would appeal to the dragon, while the later would be an insult to his pride.  
“I'm not in a hurry now. So.. How about we go for a stroll? The Northern Shroud is a beautiful place – I have to know it, since I trained here several days; long before I received Edgar from the Adder. This place is an autumn-paradise, wherefore I think you'll like it, Midgard.” the young woman said. Suspicious, the dragon peeped at the white Chocobo, but Edgar had only eyes for his proprietress. Relief and frustration flowed through him in an upsetting mixture, while he answered: “Why, yes... When thou art convinced of this activity... I shall of course accompany thee.”  
Flying next to Cecilias face – in a duly distance to Edgar, he participated in the walk.  
Although it didn't sound at first like an interesting exploit, the girl nevertheless surprised him a lot, when she suddenly turned into a residence of the Ixal. Midgardsormr thought, she wanted to fight – even if she didn't seem to be someone who challenged the Wild Tribes for fun – but the very weird opposite occurred. He felt as if he had entered a parallel-world, when Cecilia greeted with a smile the green population of the settlement, which answered her instantly with enthusiasm.  
It took him a few minutes to grasp, that these Ixal were friendly creatures who didn't seek to battle other races just because Garuda ordered them to do so. Actually, this sort of 'poultry' didn't follow the false goddess in any way. They dreamed of returning to their former home by themselves instead of hoping for regaining their wings by the mercy of a Primal. All Ixal here were engineers – skilled and experienced despite their strange way of talking.  
With huge interest, Midgardsormr eyeballed the airship they had build. With Cecilias help as well as the support of a Lalafell called Tataramu Highwind, these Ixal were very close to creating a ship which would allow them to reach the needed height. He didn't understand their technical chitchat, but as the maiden 'translated' everything for him, it wasn't hard to follow their intention. Grinning, the dragon had to admit in secret, that a dream connecting generations must be a wonderful thing. Perhaps mortals were just because of their short lifespan able to act so absurdly brilliant.

At night, Cecilia brought him to Gridania.  
The city was no comparison to the lively Limsa Lominsa, but this just suited Midgardsormr.  
Edgar, who stayed at the entrance together with other adventurer-Chocobos, seemed to enjoy it here in the same indisputable extent. The air was so clean; it tasted like purity. There was also the smack of different flowers in every breeze caressing his nostrils. A small river run through the whole city, that added a relaxing ripple to the swoosh of the trees. It was modest paradise of mortals.  
He wished, that the people of Ishgard had been like that... Humbly.  
How different history could be today, if the Elezen of Coerthas were not so proud...  
Cecilia guided him whereas his silent reflecting to Gridanias market. There was no large crowd; intrinsically the presence of people here didn't annoy him at all. There were a few merchants, several adventurers and some inhabitants of the city. He saw no difference between these mortals, because all of them were doomed to die soon. But of course he noticed still, who was resident and who didn't belong to this place. Adventurers had this very own, confident charisma.  
“Do you need dinner, too?” ,his companion asked suddenly, “I don't sleep with an empty stomach, so it would surprise me, if you feel different about that topic. Means: I hope you tell me this time, when you are hungry.” Sighing, the dragon cocked his head while he gazed at her expectant irises: “Thou art meanwhile aware, that I do not need much nutriment. Spare me thy worry.” Glowing red, his eyes emphasized the sharp sound which his voice had intoned.  
The girl grumbled something, while her mien switched to an annoyed mask, but she didn't respond anything directly in consideration of his unfriendliness. She ordered herself one plate with hot stew plus a glass filled with orange juice at the next market-stand – studying him several times with these skeptical eyes before she finally left resigned the small 'store'.  
Cecilia sat down on a round bench in the middle of the marketplace, which displeased him clearly. Crestfallen about her decision to eat just within the (minimal) crowd, Midgardsormr withdrew instantly from her. Regardless of the anticlimax he must cause for her, the dragon flew nonchalant to one of the large boards which the mortals used for running their trading. There, he took a seat – staring down at the maiden who payed for a moment attention to him with an upset expression, before she cared abruptly for nothing else but her meal.  
He was offended at the way, how slowly the maiden consumed her food.  
Weren't mortals in a hurry, always? Had they even time for relishing that unhasty a principal meal? Although he tried to figure the reason for her sedateness out, it seemed to be an insoluble mystery. When it came to the clock time adjustment, she had wasted meanwhile 10 minutes--- was that really her idea of savoring this frightening short lifespan...?  
“Hey.” ,she called suddenly up to him, “Will you drink at least something? Please?”  
The dragon was wavering for a moment, but the appeasing gaze she bestowed now upon him changed his original plan to tell her off. Giving in, his hilarious big ears dropped a little, while he came down from the market-board and landed next to her on the bench. The seat-cushion felt surprisingly comfortable under his lower part of the body, so he sat almost like a mortal there. Careful, he took the glass she offered him – she hadn't consumed yet lots of juice. Politely, he said: “I thank thee... How much can I have?” “As much as you want, of course.” she replied smiling. Oppressing a groan, he looked away from her and sipped for test purposes at the liquid.  
While he began to drink with more confidence, as the orange juice tasted good, his lids narrowed because his thoughts flipped over. He didn't know, which one he should find more frustrative – Cecilias exhausting care that just matched human standard or the disturbing effect she had on him... Both things ruined his mood. In fact, they were equal. But from a second to the other, one of them obtained higher priorities than its rival – just before they exchanged places. Over and over.  
His staring eyes ignited with a piercing red for several moments.  
Only when he looked again at her face, the burning stopped.  
He couldn't despise her smile.

After they had finished her meal just like that, the maiden declared it was bedtime now.  
Midgardsormr felt relief because of this statement, since his baby-like body demanded meanwhile with growing pressure some rest. Flying by Cecilias side, the dragons eyes admired nonstop Gridanias beautiful structure during the whole escort to a doss. He became embarrassingly thrilled, when his gazes located a great water-wheel and an even larger river.  
“The building there is our roadhouse for tonight.” the girl told him grinning.  
While she led him into the big house – rather a small hall, she explained like all the times before, what he had to know about this place. It was a tavern, airport as well as an Adventurer's Guild – called 'Carline Canopy'. An Elezen-woman who everybody called Mother Miounne ran the deal, although some inhabitants of the city had given her the nickname 'Witch' and relabeled the guild 'Miounne's witch-parlor' whenever they wanted. The female chef wasn't miffed, paradoxically, wherefore rumors spread now and then about her being truly a witch.  
Irritated by this tale, Midgardsormr tried to get a glimpse of aforesaid Elezen.  
While Cecilia asked for a guestroom at the reception, he was actually able to spot Miounne. Notwithstanding the story about her being a witch, he didn't find anything magical in her presence. Albeit there was indeed this motherly charisma that his companion had mentioned. The dragon hadn't seen until now many Elezen from Gridania, but this exemplar seemed to be a good example for their kind. She seemed to be calm; serious; benevolent. That was pleasant.  
The Au Ra called him gentle: “I got a room for us. 'Pets' and 'Minions' are allowed there, so you can just follow me. The only thing they don't allow is crafting, by the way.” Floating over her shoulder, he mumbled: “I presume, it is too noisy for other guests?” “Yepp. Adventurers may not mind that, but we aren't the only ones who use this tavern. So, the interdiction is comprehensible.”  
Opening a door an half minute later, Cecilia showed him their room. It was an ordinary chamber made of wood and decorated with not many pieces of furniture, but there was a portable fountain which added a relaxing background-noise to the environment. Also, a few potted plants contributed a welcome variety to the simple design. The room smelled clean; properly aired.  
“I leave you alone here for a moment. Just want to use the bathroom.” she excused herself.  
Yawning, Midgardsormr nodded and sat next to the fountain unperturbed down when she was gone. He didn't understand, why she did not simply use the water she could get here, but only because Cecilia refused to wash herself with it, there was no reason to follow her example. So, he hopped instantly into the plashy liquid – enjoying the way the wetness felt on his body.  
Just for a moment, he indulged in the memory of his dear lake, before he climbed out of the water. Using his flames, he dried himself and the wood underneath his corpus carefully, which would hopefully spare him another try of her to reprimand him.  
His timing was perfect, because she returned one minute after he was done with his drying.  
However, Midgardsormr looked confused at Cecilia, because she had changed her outfit drastically. Furrowing his brows, he studied the blue nightgown she wore now with disdain plus bewilderment. His gazes must explain everything for her, because she said laughing: “What is it? I love terry-cloth for sleeping. It's so warm and soft. And I have already seen it several times at the market-board. That's why I weaved the gown here just in the moment when I was finally able to do so. Since then, I'm always sleeping in it when I visit a tavern.”  
He widened his eyes minimal: “Thou art a weaver?” “Yes. I'm in general a skilled craftsman considering weaving, alchemy and forging of materials like silver and gold. Although weaving is my personal area of expertise.” she confirmed blithesome. It surprised him to hear that. Certainly, there were not many things which the girl hadn't tried out, because she seemed to be interested into various things that had not always directly to do with each other.  
As she turned the lamp off, the light of stars kept the room bright enough to see.  
Cecilia laid down; looking like a mere child in his eyes when she huddled against the cushions. Believing, that she was a warrior chosen by Hydaelyn, was in this moment truthfully hard for him. While she placed the blanket over herself, his eyelids sank a little down – he felt awkward to think, that someone like her should fight the evil of the world. She was nothing but fragile and good... Naive; way too naive. A pure fool, if he would just bring himself to accept the correct perception she must have on him. But instead... He had trouble to have negative thoughts about her.  
“Would you like to sleep in the bed, too? I wouldn't mind it, you know.” she invited him suddenly – giving him simultaneous that pretty smile with her petal-lips he found difficult to handle. Snorting, Midgardsormr shook his head in refusal: “I am no stuffed animal. Therefore, thou must manage it alone to gain thy sleep. Pardon me.” It was too polite... He should reprehend her for that idea. Believing, that he would sleep next to her... What a stupid thought!  
“I'm sorry... That wasn't appropriate, I guess.” ,the maiden apologized, “But still I would like it a lot to share the mattress with you. Even if it's selfish, I'm feeling soothed to have you by my side.” Gulping, he waited helpless for the effect of that specific 'you' to subside. Why it worked so good, Midgardsormr really couldn't grasp. But he knew, that he wasn't allowed to trust the mortals easily. There had been too many good reasons in the past for distrust... And they were still existent.  
Instead of accepting her invention, he laid down on the desk; curling up to a circle.  
For a moment, anyhow, he stared into her eyes – they called him silently.  
As long as the crystal and the jewel held contact with his irises, his body seemed to be petrified. Breathing minimal, he endured the way she had caught his attention or rather his whole awareness, because he didn't feel like breaking free from this 'spell'. Nonetheless he was more than relieved, when Cecilia closed finally her lids. She was just a mortal creature – therefore, she shouldn't be able to intoxicate his mind in the way she did. He didn't like this kind of losing self-control...  
Bearing down the idiotic wish of his softer side, Midgardsormr squinted his eyes.  
As if he would ever wholeheartedly trust a mortal being again...  
Or share his sleeping berth with one...


	3. Chapter 3

# Chapter Three

The beams of the sun glided gently over his skin.  
But it was not for them that his consciousness returned to his body.  
Midgardsormr let his tired eyes shut, while he listened to the soft sound which filled the air.  
Cecilia was talking to someone. He presumed, that it could be an employee of the tavern. It must be this way, as the man responded short-spoken; business-orientated to everything she said to him. Somehow, the dragon could imagine, that it was surely similar to the dynamic between himself and the odd archmage. She was talkative – he was silent.  
He wondered, if she would wish for more words coming from his muzzle.  
After a few minutes of small-talk, she saw the stranger off; his sign to open the eyelids slowly.  
The magician was just turning around to his direction as his blurry gazes found her delicate body. But the pleasure he felt at first vanished two seconds later thanks to his clearer vision. Knee-jerk, Midgardsormr straightened up and stared with dilated irises at her appearance.  
“Good morning, Midgard!” she greeted him bubbly – obviously not knowing, that her clothing was embarrassing in the opinion of an ancient Methuselah. His gazes wandered jumpily several times up and down her corpus, while he had trouble to hide his abashment. She truthfully wore not much – not when it came to his understanding of appropriateness.  
There were long, black boots made of leather, in which Cecilias feet were buried, and short gloves; glowing with a strange turquoise light on the outside of the leathery darkness. Her legs were mostly covered with something like a black pantyhose with an half-open plus way too short skirt, wherefore he could see her briefs. Especially, because the dark briefs were the complete opposite to the purple cloth on the skirts inside, they were perfectly visible. And although it contained a hood, the appendant top was nothing else but a black bikini-top.  
He knew the word, how mortals described such outfits nowadays.  
And albeit he found it an awful way to name something, it was true: She looked... sexy.  
His unsettledness didn't seem to reach her: “Black does suit me well, don't you agree? However, since I reached for now my limits as a Whitemage, I thought, it wouldn't be bad to return for a while to my skills as a Summoner. And the Metalworks alias Garlond clothes are perfect for this job, although I partly prefer it to let them appear in the shape of a dancer-outfit.” While her explanation filled the atmosphere, the Raen smiled plus waved an extraordinary looking grimoire. The book was way too thick as if it could be a short novel, and was on the outside decorated with several long, feathery wings in white color. In the second she opened it a little, transparent plumes rose magically from the pages. This was a weapon which only Arcanists plus Summoners used.  
As a response to her words, he nodded quickly a few times – unable to take his eyes off her.  
There was more rosy skin – were more white scales, than he was until now used from the maiden. She resembled his kind in an extant he hadn't imagined. Actually, she looked so much like the child of a dragon and a Hyur; like the perfect hybrid. Cecilia even smelled this way, when she passed him in order to open the window. He felt like being in difficulties, as his instincts were unable to cope with that foreign mixture. And it wasn't only the rough part. The girl's scent drove him mad, especially, because she owned the decent aroma of peach-blossoms...  
Midgardsormr suppressed a frustrated groan.  
Why must she smell like his beloved lake did once in spring...?  
Eyeballing her, while she watched some birds on a tree, he couldn't help but hating himself. If luck, fate, Hydaelyn or the universe had expected him to be grateful about his wondrous companion: NO, he wasn't glad about all the possibilities how the girl made unknowingly fun of him! He didn't like the mental plus emotional weakness he developed under her influence!  
She was like a bad joke...! Mocking him constantly...!  
“Are you alright? You look unhappy...” she stated and gazed at him with her jewel-like eye.  
Midgardsormr hissed in displeasure; not knowing, what else he should do in that awkward situation. The girl sighed and smiled unperturbed about his reaction. “It's okay, really. You're for sure nervous to be all the time so close to your sworn enemies – or rather their relatives. It must be hard to see and hear them whenever you wake up.” Furrowing his brows minimal, the dragon thought: 'If it just would be that simple... But they are not the reason why I am unsettled. The reason is you.'  
Cecilia closed the big window again after five minutes of absolute silence.  
And he watched attentively every single movement of her body.  
Yes, she was deriding him... Like light ridiculed the moth.

Central Coerthas was as cold as he remembered from yesterday.  
But at least the atmosphere was windless – and the sky was cloudless, too.  
Sitting on Cecilias shoulder, Midgardsormr studied the environment while Edgar transported them to their destination. Every mortal creature he saw – no matter, if it was man or monster – seemed to handle the low temperature good enough to live in this land instead of abandoning the icy desert. Usually, he wouldn't be surprised about that fact, but as he was currently trapped in the tiny shape of a baby-dragon, it was admirable how the short-lived existences outmatched him.  
A sharp gust from the north blew over them – making him shake like a leaf.  
Indeed, he was still vulnerable to abrupt fluctuations...  
“Thou art not freezing?” he casually asked, when he noticed that his companion did not even minimally flinch under the unpleasant airflow. The dragon had expected Cecilia to regret her choice of clothing in the moment they would reach the snowy landscape, but his gruff – rather spiteful sense of humor wasn't rewarded with any mortal unease. “Not a tiny bit. I could wear only a bikini and wouldn't freeze just because of a little ventilation!” she responded laughing and pushed a strand of her white-golden hair out of the smiling face. Looking instantly away from her, he tried to block all imaginations considering such an embarrassing, ridiculous situation out.  
There it was once more... Man's foolishness. He was already sick of it...  
“Am I again making fun of you...?” she suddenly wanted to know with a serious facial expression. “W-What hast thou...?” His shorttaken reaction seemed to be proof enough, as the maiden stated: “Although I can't read your mind, it's obvious to see it... You don't like being with me. I'm too odd – too young for being a good company. An ancient creature who's similar to a god should better travel with someone as old and wise as Louisoix Leveilleur was. A Methuselah filled with so many memories and knowledge shouldn't be forced to waste time with a youngster like me.”  
Her crystal-eye didn't look at him, but he saw the sadness within it at once.  
Oh Hydaelyn, he disdained it how guilt preyed on his mind when it came to this mortal...!  
Carefully, he nudged Cecilia with his tiny right 'hand'. “Thou hast just... startled me. Antediluvian; that's all I am. How am I supposed to take thy traits in stride, when I have not met another creature of thy generation ever before? Thou art... so new. Yet, thou art a better choice for being my escort than these human beings I just saw in the last hours. I do not regret traveling with thee.”  
She turned her whole face to his direction – watching him with these invaluable eyes.  
Her shy smile that appeared now was like a tiny piece of an unknown heaven.  
Inadvertent, the dragons 'hand' leaned stronger against her warm neck.  
Gazing into the distance in order to distract himself from the mess within his mind, he could see Camp Dragonhead already. But why men called this place 'a camp' was truthfully a mystery to him. It was no mere settlement – rather a small fortress in the midst of the rocks. The stone-walls loomed into the sky with the typical pride of Ishgards stone-cutters. Sentinels patrolled along the street; looking for heretics as well as dragons. Several people passed them – only those were allowed to go or to enter without examination, who were familiar to the guards. The others had to endure a check; whether they liked it or not. A taste of depression lay in the air under this view.  
He breathed a sigh of relief, when Edgar passed the sentinels without any reaction of them.  
If the mortals had stopped the Chocobo and asked the girl, what the thing on her shoulder was...  
He wouldn't have known, what to do. Would he even have lost control; attacking them, at worst?  
“Don't fear. I'm popular here in Central Coerthas. So, they are used to me carrying minions, dolls, puppets and small animals around all day long. In their eyes, you are another 'toy' of mine. Nothing, which they have to inspect.” the soft voice stroked his ears – calming him and his skepticism. Cecilia gave him an all-knowing smile when he gazed at her; not looking like a foolish child to him, but a woman adept of the contact with other beings – other species.  
While she led the white Chocobo to a specific construction, Midgardsormr felt chilly.  
But not because of the temperature, no. It was thanks to her; this enigmatic maiden.  
To decipher mortals had been once so easy, but she was different in many ways.

Inside of the building, there were several knights as well as a group of adventurers.  
The dragon detected instantly, that all of these 'outsiders' were blessed by Hydaelyn with the Echo. Hence, they must be the other Warriors of Light. Although he wouldn't bet on all individuals here. Their granted talent was not equally distinctive within the specific beings, wherefore he doubted, that any of them would be so 'lucky' to have a vision of his true form. He had dreaded such a chance in secret, but now he was no longer worried.  
Cecilia was welcomed by her comrades with nodding as well as friendly words.  
Obviously, the warriors were a bunch of differing personalities – different races, too.  
When he let his eyes wander over them, he recognized that female commander from Ishgard – conversing with a male Hyur. Lucia was in comparison to that man talkative like mortal females regularly were, which seemed to be a rare occasion for this serious woman. However, the man was obviously nobody who would waste often time with talking; a typical wielder of the battle-ax. Presumably, that woman must be a personal favorite of him, that he made such an exception for her. At least, there was no other reason the dragon could imagine. But on the other hand... It was strange how the Hyur didn't smile and had only severe gazes left for his environment.  
“You stare a little bit too much.” he heard Cecilia whispering so muted, that only he could notice it. “Pardon me... This man just caught my attention as he talked to thy commander.” It wasn't correct, to call Lucia 'Cecilias' commander, but in his eyes she was the Au Ra's supervisor when it came to the projects of Ishgard. “Ah, good to know. Then, it's not only me, who has the feeling of him being clearly too reserved around us. Sure, he's a lone wolf, but something must be wrong.” Cecilia said and sighed lowly. He wondered, how she could claim, that she didn't know which kind of thoughts dwelt in his brain, when she guessed so awfully often correct.  
Midgardsormr asked quietly: “Who is... this man?” “He...? He's our chef, if you want to label him. We call him 'Erik', because he refuses to tell us his real name. For a while, we honestly tried to live with that weird quirk he got, but after two months or so, we were too tired of not addressing him. That's how we came up with that simple nickname.” the maiden explained. He nodded minimal, while his irises examined this adventurer. Although the dark-brown hair and the face itself seemed acceptable alias likable enough when it came to mortals, these eyes weren't sympathetic. Steel-blue, they owned an expression which told Midgardsormr how narrow-minded the man might think about the war between Ishgard and dragons. This 'Erik' was no ally of draconic kind.  
“Hey, Alphinaud!” the maiden greeted suddenly with a sweet voice.  
The adventurers looked to the room's entrance and followed smiling her example.  
“Commandant Leveilleur of the Crystal Braves.” Lucia added in a polite manner, while the Elezen walked directly to Cecilia. Midgardsormr snorted lowly under this view, because he hadn't expected her Scion-friend to be more teenager than anything else. Of course he had recognized yesterday Alphinauds young voice, but the boy was not even as large as the Au Ra was. He was at least several centimeter; a half head smaller than her.  
While the mortals were happy about the young leader being attendant, the dragon eyeballed him with severe disdain. This Elezen had snow-white hair; partly open in short cut, partly in a braid. Probably the style was neutral, but the soft facial features reminded more of a girl than a boy. Alphinaud had even eyes with a female expression, as their dark-blue was gentle and framed with long, dark lashes like Cecilia owned. It was difficult to think of him as a commander.  
Silently, Midgardsormr watched the way how the mortals interacted with him.  
Nobody seemed to realize it, but the boy was presumably a little tense; rather nervous. Waiting for a yet missing adventurer, before the meeting could officially begin, made it obviously even worse. Although the Warriors of Light were his friends – and he an important person – the Elezen acted mostly eloquent plus poised because of the pride they gave him; instead of real self-confidence. Midgardsormr had seen fools like him often enough to identify this. Starry-eyed, proud individuals, who hid practically their worries behind lovely words and exquisite manners.  
Alphinaud was like a house of cards. Vulnerable to the core.  
Therefore, it frustrated the dragon, how affectionate Cecilia talked to the boy.  
It might be only a negligible chat in her opinion, but he saw very well, how her docile nature affected the youngest Scion. Relaxation flowed through the child a fortiori the maiden payed only attention to him instead of her comrades. Alphinaud seemed to have also a preference for her, because he barely skipped for the others a topic when she still had something to say about it.  
Keeping a growl down, Midgardsormr didn't approve the way, how sugary her voice sounded whenever she conversed directly with Alphinaud. Did she fancy him truly that much? Or was she only belittling him, as he could be a younger brother for her...? Whatever it might be: The dragon didn't like the sweet pitch that was only reserved for this sapling.

As the last adventurer alias Warrior of Light made it finally, the real conference began.  
Before Lucia would commence the exemplification of the newest schedules Ishgard had developed, Erik rose to speak at first. Together with three others of their assemblage, he had yesterday battled against an Ascian. That identity had been nobody else the dangerous Nabriales. Cocking his head, Midgardsormr couldn't pretend to know this name, but the fraught reaction of the other adventurers revealed enough of the possible endangerment to grasp the situation.  
With a mixture of pride and sorrow, Erik declared, that they had made it to defeat him.  
All mortals but him and his three allies rejoiced, wherefore the general enthusiasm abated quickly. Inhaling deeply at first, the Warrior's leader explained then, that Nabriales had attacked Minfilia; threatening to kidnap the Scion's head. The allies had tried everything to defeat him with the help of an invention allowing them to use a blade of aether. But the goal had been beyond their power; there hadn't been enough energy to overcome the strong Ascian.  
Erik became silent, so one of the female Warriors asked, how they could make it nevertheless.  
Fastening the big-mouthed, impatient woman with his steel-blue eyes, the mysterious man stated, that Moenbryda had sacrificed herself in order to let her invention prevail over Nabriales. Blinking, Midgardsormr remembered irritated, that he had heard that name already the day before yesterday. Cecilia had greeted someone with this appellation while she was paced through the Rising Stones... To think, that a mortal had created a weapon for destroying the Ascians... just in order to lose following her life in exchange... The dragon was confused by this.  
“So that's the reason why he behaved colder than I'm used from him...” Cecilia whispered doleful. Staring perplexed at her, there was nothing else which the dragon could do. Self-sacrifices were something he hadn't experienced with men. “Erik liked Moenbryda a lot...” ,the maiden mumbled, “She had been someone who fascinated him truthfully. There aren't many people he really adores. It's a miracle that he gets along with us other Warriors of Light.”  
The dragon closed his eyes slightly humming: “That's understandable... I do not automatically like other dragons, either.” “Although they are your grandchildren, strictly speaking?” she asked. Midgardsormr opened his lids minimal; eyes piercing-red. “Yes. Thou expected something else?” “But they are your family, after all. Doesn't this count...?” the Raen questioned naively. “No, it does not count...” he mumbled tired; letting his lids again sink down. There were too many descendants, as if he could care for all of them with deepest affection. It would be too destructive...  
His heart wouldn't take losing one of them in the war against Ishgard.

Lucia explained the next steps Ishgard planned in order to defend themselves.  
It was clear, that they needed the help of the other cities of Eorzea, but mostly Ishgards people hoped for the support of adventurers in general; not only the Warriors of Light. Every helping hand was more than welcome to them. According to Alphinaud, who had already talked to the heads of the city-states, there wouldn't be much help of the military, wherefore their success depended practically on the number of adventurers they could mobilize, so that Ishgards sympathy had chosen just the right fraction. It was obvious, how frustrated the Elezen was about that part...  
When Lucia had ended her report, Erik took directly the lingual lead over.  
The goal for all the participant adventurers was simple: It would be the defense of the Steps of Faith as Ishgard's champions on the front-line. Erik wouldn't tolerate any cowards or hotheads in this pact, wherefore he as the leader expected from his fellow-Warriors to chose wisely their allies. Anybody, who brought aforesaid nuisances to the battlefield, would later pay the price for this misconduct. And nobody should trust that a merciful punishment anticipated pantywaists.  
When Erik coordinated their exact assistance alias the positions they should use on the battlefield, Midgardsormr gazed with a harsh expression at the Hyur. That man was the only Warrior of Light who wasn't in any way likable. The gruff, short-spoken attitude of the Marauder alias Warrior chased sensitive creatures easily off and these steel-blue eyes made one feel uncomfortable as hell. Not even the attendant Paladin-Roegadyn had such an unpleasant mannerism... How had Cecilia just befriended this unfriendly man? And why was he the head of the Warriors of Light...?  
'If I should ever become mentally weak...' ,Midgardsormr thought, '...I would rather protect the girl with all her stupid characteristics, than this armored fighter who is the bare spleen in person... Tss, the purgatory would freeze before I would even consider shielding this Erik...'  
After the men had finished their tactical conversation, they continued again with the small-talk. Growling muted on her shoulder, the dragon gave his best to mime Cecilias well-behaved little pet. The plan seemed to work – until the moment when Erik decided to converse directly with her. Obviously the Hyur was a brave man, because he looked with the full awareness at Midgardsormr, that the Raen's companion disliked him uttermost. Ignoring yet the soundless warning of the dragon, the Marauder cozed suddenly with Cecilia as if he would be a close friend to her.  
“You got a new buddy.” ,Erik stated suddenly, “I'm no dragon-fan, but he's for sure a nice replica.” Midgardsormrs ears twitched backwards, when the Hyur reached without announcing out for him. As if he would allow that man to pat his head...! Lickety-split, the dragon spat a trifle of blue fire at the outstretched hand – to Cecilias negative surprise. “What are you thinking...?!” she shouted, while Erik laughed unperturbed by the dragons doing. “Oh boy, that's for real a charismatic minion. I like such playthings.” he noted grinning. The maiden answered his smile for a short moment, before she gave Midgardsormr a goring stare with her blue eye.  
The dragon didn't care for her disapproval and looked simply away.  
If he would want to, he could seal Hydaelyns gift within Erik, too... But the unnecessary exhaustion, which that doing meant, prevented him from following his impulse this time. Above all, he was not interested into assisting the Hyur in any way. Much less would he want to reveal himself to Erik. There was no reason to include another mortal in his 'task'.

A knight of the royal house Fortemps appeared in the room.  
Obviously, that Elezen was here to join the fete instead of announcing anything, as a warm welcome in lieu of questioning gazes followed to his arrival. Named Haurchefant, he was a son of nobility, which Midgardsormr eavesdropped quickly amongst the conversation that some of the adventurers conducted with him. The Elezens father was the current lord of Fortemps. Yet, this didn't affect Haurchefants personality, since he seemed to be a very warm-hearted exemplar of these long-eared, usually exceeding mannered creatures. Somehow, it was unbelievable, that he should be related to Coerthas' elf-like race... Because he smiled. Widely. Sickening blithesome.  
The young man with gray-blue hair was obviously a good friend of the Warriors.  
Well, rather a great fan of them... But the dragon couldn't handle humans idea of popularity, anyways. He just judged because of the visible things he could comprehend. Like the attentiveness which Haurchefant demonstrated. The knight listened with pure interest to the adventurers words – never getting tired of anything they spoke. Their stories must be audible gold for him.  
Nothing seemed to fascinate the Elezen more than the Warriors. Except for one...  
Although he treated all of them with equal attention, Midgardsormr realized soon, that this wasn't the incontrovertible truth behind the knight's interactions. Haurchefant HAD in fact a preference for one of the adventures. Mortals may not see the admiration slip through his enthusiasm and comity, since he acted obviously usual for his standard... But it was there.  
The dragon didn't know, if he should think of it as a bad joke or as a bagatelle.  
What did he actually know about... puppy love? Fanaticism? Could it become a serious thing? Something, which was more meaningful than the way how Cecilia spoke to Alphinaud? Or rather, was it something which would one day make the Au Ra utter Haurchefants name with that softness Midgardsormr had only heard when she called the teenager...?  
While the dragon found it unintelligible, that the knight had of all things a preference for Cecilia, the feeling seemed clearly to be mutual. Whenever they conversed with each other, this Elezen had her undivided attention, too. Haurchefant might embarrass her obviously with his praising words, but apart from that, she enjoyed his presence. The knight must be one of her favorite friends – whether she used that specific tune or not. The man was dear to her; like her stupid Chocobo was.  
Sighing, Midgardsormr glared at the maiden with confusion because of his own thoughts.  
Just like yesterday, he was again jealous of another creature which she adored.  
He wondered, if this would never stop... The girl – making a fool of him.

The Warriors of Light seemed to have a routine when it came to this kind of job.  
While the local military-representatives seemed to be nervous; almost headless because of the yet unknown number of helping hands, Cecilia and her companions were using their friend-contacts plus linkshells to other adventurers like there was no tomorrow. While the group phoned nonstop in the yard of Camp Dragonhead, Midgardsormr used the time in order to overhear guards who walked through the settlement. He was curious, if there was new information...  
“The heretics are a pack of fraidy-cats!” ,one of the men complained, “The scouts say that only several dragons are on the way to Ishgard. Obviously, the beasts send skilled fighters, after those who betrayed us have destroyed the first barrier. Seemingly, the traitors dare to leave the dirty part to their beloved pangolins!” “Have you expected something else? The insane guys prefer killing us from the inside in sweet disguise, while the direct strikes are too risky for them! Even this Iceheart made sure to avoid direct contact as much as possible and let the dragons do instead the tough jobs! Probably, they are not the 'poor pawns' but rather the ones who we should eliminate first.”  
Shaking his head, Midgardsormr lost interest in the guards.  
While he climbed on the Nirvana, he wondered, how Ishgard could still exist, when such fools inhabited the city. After all, they were on the edge of war! If they owned no unity, it was for sure, which fraction would win in the end. A nation of idiots... A folk with false pride and wrong history. Nothing seemed to be worth the trouble the Warriors of Light had gotten themselves into.  
“Ceci, you wanna eat?” Eriks annoying voice disturbed the dragons thoughts.  
Smiling embarrassed, she responded: “Would it be okay? I haven't convinced a single companion until now to join us...” “And? Neither did I.” ,the brown-haired guy stated, “But the others have. Therefore, it's important to have a filled stomach. Don't think the dragons will take forever to reach the Steps of Faith. You can still phone buddies after you have eaten. We should be soon ready.”  
Erik handed her following a sandwich over – a delicious smelling exemplar.  
“Oi, it's brilliant! You excelled yourself again.” the girl praised the food after taking the first bite. Shrugging, he answered: “Nah, it's nothing. Hadn't time to cook something proper. But I tell that in every situation like this one. Can't believe you guys find my excuse-noshes still good.”  
Cecilia giggled, which let the steel-blue eyes of the Hyur sparkle in content.  
When the man patted her head slightly, Midgardsormr finally grasped why she saw a friend in him. Erik was like a big brother for this gormless creature – and he surely thought of her as a little sister, since he wasn't as grumpy to her like he was to his other allies. Or friends? Family...?  
If the Warriors of Light were some kind of family, then these two characters were surely the center of the younger generation. That Paladin-Roegadyn would mime a perfect father with his calmness and the Bard-Miqo'te – on the contrary – could play the mother's part with her confidence. Also, their Blackmage-Elezen plus the Whitemage-Lalafell would be the uncle and aunt, while the others were in charge for representing the cousins. This 'picture' seemed to be the ideal analogy to the way how mortals tended to address a bunch of people who were related to each other.  
Midgardsormr pitied mortal's narrow-minded understanding of life.  
The adventurers thought they could protect Ishgard from the judgment of dragons... Just because 'heroic deeds' were their day-to-day-business. Just because they were companions who fought since a longer while together against Primals, Ascians and this Garlean Empire. Just because they had decided to interfere in an issue that was older than they were. And just because they felt this stupid, useless sentiment of relatedness which wasn't caused by kindredship.  
When they mounted their Chocobos in different colors, Midgardsormr was convinced...  
There was no warranty that this random cluster would even partly survive the combat.  
And taking a seat on the Au Ra once more was no sign of his enthusiasm, neither.

'Vishap...!' the name echoed unstoppable in his mind.  
Midgardsormr had expected many dragons who he knew by their appellation, but not him.  
This grandchild was a huge exemplar. Not directly the most powerful type, but the perfect fighter for the front-line thanks to his endless stamina and determination. His giant feet could trample mortals as if they were withered weeds on a field. And as the outside-barrier of Ishgard had just been crashed to pieces thanks to the heretics actions, Vishap alone could break through the others until the city was an open target. The smaller dragons accompanying him were mere accessories; distractions for those who were now in a hurry to protect the remaining shields.  
Clawing into Cecilias shoulder, Midgardsormr was in two minds about the confrontation.  
He WANTED Ishgard to burn. He WANTED to see the sons pay for the sins of their fathers.  
But he COULDN'T stand the thought of the girl dying while she healed and supported her allies.  
If he knew something for sure, then it was the guarantee, that the archmage invested her existence for those who she wanted to save from harm. She protected rather even the unknown adventurers, before she would let her life become top-priority. He had already guessed via her light-gathering, that she was that version of a docile soul, but now he had the final proof for that.  
Even in this situation, she acted like a perfect Whitemage. Brave. Dutiful.  
But still she was a stern, naive creature. Not laying a single hand on the dragons.  
The only time, when the Au Ra attacked 'pangolins', were the moments in which she pushed them via water-magic away from her fellow-adventurers as well as Ishgard's knights. But Cecilia never, truthfully never tried to harm one of them. Tss, a 'fine murderer' she was... He wouldn't be surprised under different circumstances, if she had been a dastardly person who had allied with the heretics... Waiting for the right moment to betray Ishgard. But he knew she wasn't like that.  
Cecilia Shirone was a shield.  
Enduring all kinds of harder damage – physical and emotional ones.  
She was a creature loyal to life itself; probably more than the rest of her gang.  
Vishap, who led the assault in lieu of Nidhogg, would surely never come to realize how precious that tiny, 'annoying' healer under his moving feet could be. Surely she resembled an embodiment of obstinacy and foolishness, yet she stood by her decision to guard those who were in need. An insect, that was determined to stave fire-salvos and other draconic attacks off via her body without armor. Someone, who meant to Midgardsormr simultaneous frustration as well as delight.  
Well, actually she meant to him more nuisance than anything else...  
Because she even payed attention that he wouldn't get hit by the all-present fire.  
“Thou must not shield me.” the dragon hissed irately, while he looked at the fresh burn on her arm. His red eyes glowed piercingly in the moment they wandered to Cecilias face; accusing the maiden of absolute foolishness. Interestingly, her irises were answering his gaze at once; with an expression harder as stone. Her voice was only a distant whisper: “You really think I would let you get injured? With that vulnerable body of a baby-dragon? Dream on, Midgard.”  
This was all she said to him. Only this. And it was enough to make him furious.  
'I hope my descendants will eat you up after the battle is over.' he thought; pride wounded.  
But this moment of hatred towards Cecilia was only fleeting. He needed not more than her usual, continuous routine as a healer: Looking at first after the others before taking care of herself. Worried, he couldn't continue being mad at the maiden, when she sacrificed her health so willingly. All the other adventurers didn't concern him – especially not the knights of Ishgard. But she was... regrettably important to him. More, than a tolerable business-orientated concern would allow.  
The dragon couldn't stand the imagination of her death, indeed.  
Closing his eyes – blending the whole fight out – he touched her neck with his 'hand'.  
“Thou must promise me to take better care of thee...” the words left his throat reluctantly.  
He felt her gaze on his face; this questioning windows to her soul. “What is that supposed to mean? Are you afraid that Vishap or the rest of the troop could knock me out?” she asked disbelieving. Sighing, he wondered, how she could be 'funny' in such a situation. As if she tried to ignore the fact, that the dragons had to kill her instantly after Erik and the other full-armored men would be erased. Healers were in every war one of the first targets. She knew it, too.  
Jaws clenched, Midgardsormr responded: “I do not want to watch thy end.”  
When he opened his eyelids minimal, he saw her widened irises reflecting the torment on his face, which this concession to her had caused immediately. Although she looked quickly away from him in order to focus at her allies, it was like she owned full awareness about the inappropriate avowal this dragon here had just committed... The crystal and the jewel confirmed this notion.  
“I didn't know, that you tolerate me a bit more than an ordinary escort...” she mumbled shyly.  
His 'claws' dug into the skin of her neck. Wasn't it obvious enough, that this was wrong?  
After all, he spoke to her. Listened to her. He had even approved food from her...!  
How could she believe, that he did only 'tolerate' her presence...?  
He ACCEPTED her... That was the shameful truth.

His gaze fluctuated, while he watched the unbelievable scene together with Cecilia.  
Seemingly they were not the only ones, who couldn't grasp what their eyes located now.  
But it was no illusion: Vishap fell. The reserves of the big dragon had reached their limits.  
Several Dragoons of Ishgard were on the spot to execute the final death-blow just when the 'beast' hit the Steps of Faith with his enormous body. There was an earsplitting roar coming from Vishap, before the whole atmosphere became nothing else but a silent void.  
Midgardsormr stared at the corpse of his grandchild without even blinking.  
Then, he looked at the unknown descendants who lay motionless on the floor.  
They all had decided to battle until the very end. There was nothing to regret, as they had fought because of their own free will. But who would have guessed, that they would fail...?  
Shouts of joy began to enliven the silence.  
The men grasped their victory now. Good for them...  
When gloom poured out of his suppressed emotional core, another tune caught his attention.  
“Midgard...? Are you... okay?” the worried voice of the maiden caressed his ridiculous big ears. Probably, he looked more wrathful in her opinion than he truthfully was... “I am not... angry.” ,Midgardsormr tried to express his emotional state, “There existed only two options, how the battle on this day could end. The victory of Ishgard was implausible, yet it was possible. And it occurred, in the end. So... How could I condemn thee for protecting the city? It was thy mission.”  
Looking up to her face, he realized, that he partly tried to convince himself with these words. Although it counted only for the last words. In fact, he convicted the men of slaying all the dragons who were now lifeless chunks of flesh on the Steps of Faith. He damned Ishgard at the most; followed by that unbearable-annoying man named Erik, before the other adventurers were accurst. Only the girl who served him as a seat was spared. But only because she hadn't murdered.  
Apparently, the intention of his last sentences was clear to the archmage.  
“You don't need to lie.” ,she said with a harsh expression of the irises, “I know you hate us for this. There's no reason for that sugarcoating.” “I do not hate THEE.” he snarled with compressed lips. Ignoring the loud ecstasy of mortals in the background, they stared at each other with burning eyes. “Sounds like another falsehood.” Cecilia stated bluntly. He mildened his gaze: “But it isn't...”  
“Why should I believe you? After all, animosity must eat you away in this very second.”  
Under her mask of severity, he saw the compassion which this girl felt in the moment she spoke.  
Barely audible, Midgardsormr sighed and shook his head. “I might be crestfallen, partly... But no, animosity does not ruin me – not now. However, thou must stop thinking, that I would hate thee. Thou art... no murderer of us dragons. Only thou art not. I can't refuse thee. Only thee.”  
At first Cecilia inhaled the air. As if she wanted to scold him.  
But then, not a single sound escaped. She only held her breath instead.  
He widened his eyes in wonderment, when he watched her cheeks discolor to a delicate pink. Also, she pulled her lips for several seconds into her mouth, so that they reappeared with a glistening, moist coat that emphasized the rosy tint they had. Cecilia had reacted in a similar way before – when Haurchefant embarrassed her – but this was no fitting comparison...  
Because this time, she was unable to utter any kind of response.  
Midgardsormr didn't know, how he should handle that. His words must have been inapposite, correct...? Probably they had been formulated in a way the girl found abashing...  
With a muted tune, the girl regained her voice: “I assumed... you think it's weak when somebody doesn't kill dragons while he or she fights for Ishgard. That seemed to be after all an unwritten rule in this endless battle... People and dragons fight until one fraction on the battlefield is dead.”  
“Well, thy opponents are slayed, aren't they? But it was not thy hand which killed them. And this... is something which relieves me; I must confess. The battle filled me with rage for Ishgard, but... that's nothing I would call a 'novelty'. Rather, I am amazed... because of thy stubbornness.”  
The maiden looked with a snippy 'Pppffft!' away from him; sulking like a huffy child.  
Yet, he couldn't bear down the smile which spread over his face while gazing at her.  
She might not realize it, but he enjoyed her presence sufficing in order to endure...  
Cecilia helped him to watch the war without losing control over himself.


	4. Chapter 4

# Chapter Four

An apposition of several sneezes filled the air.  
He had stopped counting, but it must be the seventh or eighth time in this quarter of an hour.  
Glaring sullen at the 'pitiable' boy next to Cecilia, Midgardsormr couldn't believe that she took care of the Elezen just because he had gotten a little cold. To be more direct: She had brought him earlier than necessary to Ul'dah with the excuse, that she – as an alchemist – would cure his illness there. As a security measure, quasi. Before it would become some serious influenza. In other words, something which had to be if he wanted to visit later the celebration of Ishgard's victory.  
So, that was why they sat here – in the guild of alchemy.  
Alphinaud rested on a chair, while the dragon had taken a seat on the next-best desk.  
The two of them watched Cecilias easygoing work, which seemed to be as precise as the handles of the busy guild-master in the background. Although this strange, creepy man called Severian did not seem to be the most professional alchemist here. His pupils took their tasks apparently more serious than he did – and the Raen producing a cure for Alphinaud had been one of them.  
Midgardsormr snorted quietly and curled up to a perfect circle.  
If he had obtained a cold – although that was unimaginable – the girl would surely not be in a hurry. Presumably, she would have stated, that it was his own fault as he always sought for direct contact with Coerthas' icy air. Then, perhaps, she would have discussed the topic for a while with him, before even considering bringing him to a warmer place. Not to mention the creation of a cure...  
“Just one minute left, Alphinaud. The potion has to brew for a moment.”  
There it was again... This sickening sweet pitch in her voice.  
The dragon growled muted, before he closed his lids.  
After Vishap had been defeated, he was hoping to spend a little bit... privacy with Cecilia.  
He didn't want to open up as much as she probably wished for, but he still wanted to assure her, that his words on the Steps of Faith had never intended anything negative. Rather, it was the opposite... In his gruff humor of an old man, he had realized too late, that she couldn't read between the lines like those of his own kind could. She thought, that he found her stubbornness silly.  
Midgardsormr really had wanted to fix this mistake.  
But NO, there was not even a chance for asking the girl for some private time.  
When Cecilia had recognized Alphinauds sneezing, she had used her charm in order to convince Commander Lucia as well as Erik of the boys bad state of health. After that coup, it had been for her a child's play to persuade the Commandant of the Crystal Braves to follow her without complaints. And since Ul'dah was their destination for the official celebration, no adventurer or member of these blue-uniformed Crystal Braves had any objections against her plan.  
Begrudgingly, the dragon looked up, when he heard the maidens footsteps.  
She handed the Elezen in this moment the potion out – looking in the way like invalids hoped to see a nurse smiling at them whenever they got their medicine. Who needed angels, when heaven was detectable on earth... Alphinaud thought clearly something like that, as he quickly drank the liquid with reddened cheeks and lowered gazes. Tss, the boy should be glad, that the girl wore this serious, decent outfit of a skilled craftsman and not that---  
Midgardsormr cursed his overhasty thoughts, because just in this moment Cecilia switched back to her new-decided standard; but Blackmage. Why did she have to change her priorities? Healing was after all her preferred role on the battlefield. And above all, did she honestly think that THIS outfit was appropriate for the announced celebration...? Perhaps it might be a fitting ensemble for a trip to the desert, but national authorities would certainly not tolerate this ordinary standard...  
He looked fangs-grounding away from the frustrating maiden.  
But from the corners of his eyes, the dragon glanced at her, while she spoke to the Elezen.  
“Your sister would surely be mad to see, how little you take care of your health.” ,Cecilia stated, “Alisaie is surely busy with her tasks, but I bet she jumps to your side in the second she learns about the illnesses you earn lately in a constant manner.” Coughing in embarrassment, the boy responded: “P-Please, don't tell her! My twin-sister can be a real nightmare when I am too focused at my work in lieu of my state of health... She's worse than our mother in this point...”  
“Well, with my 20 years, I'm surely no snitch. In fact, I am nowadays as an adult not more like that than I was as a child. Yet... if you continue with that behavior, there's nothing which could stop me from informing Alisaie about your inattentiveness. When you refuse listening to all your friends, then your sister must wash your head.” she said determined.  
“Can't I change your mind...?” Alphinaud gazed at her with a hopeful expression.  
The maiden smiled almost wicked at the boy: “Nope.” Following, she gave Midgardsormr a look which was full of puckish amusement about the situation. Now it was the dragon, who was forced to cough in abashment. It made absolutely no sense, but he found her 'strict big sister' attitude fascinating or rather... attractive. Her sternness, in general... It was like a drug to him.  
Midgardsormr could barely refuse the magnetic pull of her odd personality.  
And he hated himself for it. A fortiori the longing became stronger.

“Momodi wants to speak with us?” the mannerless Hyur asked with a full mouth.  
Staring with glowing irises from Cecilias shoulder at Erik, he heard only marginal, how Alphinaud answered politely: “Yes, she asked me to inform you two about this wish. When I visited Momodi just a moment before... In order to thank her again for her support considering the people of Doma, she expressed her interest into a meeting. Also, it sounded like there's somebody else who would like to see both of you. But she didn't tell me any details.”  
“Sounds weird.” Erik stated and bit once more into his apple, which crackled loudly under his teeth. Contemptuous, Midgardsormr turned up his nose at the churlish gawk. “I wonder, who would have enough interest into conversing with us just before the celebration starts...” the maiden mumbled. “Supposably an admirer. But whoever it is... Momodi must surely know this person. As long as it's not again such a send-your-servant-thing... Don't like that aspect of Ul'dah. Incognito meetings everywhere and anytime. Bah, bollocks!” the Hyur railed at this possibility.  
Alphinaud nodded slightly and asked very stiff: “Uhm, I presume you two will go now to her...?” “Stage-fright again...?” ,was the straight response of Erik, “Should we escort you first to the party?” “N-No, of course not! I-I am just...” Snorting, the dragon couldn't believe that this 'Commander' was stammering like a little child. Obviously, he bore this part of his personality down whenever members of these Crystal Braves were around. This was after all something, which Midgardsormr had meanwhile realized. This Elezen... He tried to be someone in public who he wasn't.  
Cecilia smiled gently at her young friend. “It's okay, Alphinaud. Erik can go ahead in order to see what Momodi wants from us. In the meantime, I accompany you until we have found Minfilia and the others, so that you're not alone with your tasks as a leader.” “Sounds like a plan.” Erik chuntered and scratched abstractedly his head. “That's not necessary.” ,the boy said and cleared his throat, “When I would need your help in such little... matter, I would be nothing more but a dissembler. And to be honest... I truthfully think that too many people rely on you guys. Not only the Warriors, but also the adventurers in general. Back then... that was not just a speech. I really meant it.”  
“That topic again...” the Hyur harrumphed before he bit firmly into the half-eaten apple.  
Midgardsormr gazed inquiring at the maiden. To which subject had he addressed?  
As if she had heard his thoughts, Cecilia said: “Alphinaud, we don't help other persons just because they want this assistance from us. It is our job – our self-chosen path. We get not only a payment for every single mission people give us, but we also earn their trust. In some way, we take advantage of those who are in the need of help. And we can quit whenever we want. I, personally, help them because I simply want to help, but there are enough adventurers who do it just because of the price. Therefore, no state and no folk has the same benefit which we have from a deal.”  
Erik clapped minimal: “Exactly my speech. Only better expressed. Although I'm amazed, that Ceci speaks voluntary with that 'bitter diction of a representative'. She usually hates it. A lot.”  
The aforesaid Raen glared miffed at her companion, while Alphinaud looked surprised at them. “That means... You two do still not think, that the states take you to the cleaners?” “Not at all. Perhaps, we are the real leeches here. We hornswoggle you.” the boss of the Warriors replied.  
Not only the teenager found this statement confusing.  
Midgardsormr was baffled, how less these two adventurers thought about their duty.  
However, that seemed to be just a little surprise, when Cecilia suddenly said: “Well, when you are truly determined to go without me to the celebration... You can take my little buddy here with you.” At first, the dragon didn't realize, who she meant. But his eyelids ripped themselves widely open, when the word's signification finally reached his grasp. Impulsive, his irises started glowing.  
She was... not serious here, right...? She couldn't be!  
He was no toy which she could lend to someone else whenever she pleased...!  
Before Midgardsormr could complain about her intent, the girl lifted him from her shoulder and placed his body straightaway on Alphinauds head. The boy seemed to be as shorttaken as he was – the only difference was the missing indignation about her action. With a stiff smile, the Elezen looked for a moment up to the putative puppet; perhaps silently trying to excuse the situation. Then, he payed again attention to the Au Ra: “Thank you... I try to look after him while he's with me.”  
Midgardsormr coughed muted because of these words.  
'Keeping an eye on me...? On ME...? Child, it's rather the opposite...'  
He mildened his gaze, when his irises found hers. They confirmed his suspicion at once.  
Ah, so she did this in order to make sure, that her precious little friend wouldn't get into trouble... Although he knew no details, he had recognized, that the Warriors of Light didn't trust all members of the Crystal Braves. They pretended to consider the specific individuals as friends in public, yet their words in privacy were soaked with distrust.  
'Do I even want to play the role of your spy...?' he thought hesitant; eyeballing her.  
Cecilia didn't let him time to reassess the situation, as she said: “Let's go, Erik. I don't want to risk our luck with Momodis patience. And if we're fast enough, maybe we won't miss the opening.” “Yeah, that's my opinion, too.” the Hyur replied nodding plus threw the remains of his apple away. The two saw their friend for now off, before they ran into the direction of Ul'dah's tavern.  
Letting a low growl roll in his throat, the dragon laid down in Alphinauds white hair. He didn't want to baby-sit this starry-eyed teenager... It was against his resolution... But well, he had no choice. Hydaelyn wanted him to stay by Cecilias side. It was the only existential purpose he had left – otherwise, he would still rest within his corpse; absorbed in slumber. And if that valuable price meant to do the mortal at least this tiny favor... Denying her moderate wish was no option.  
When the boy started moving, Midgardsormrs irises followed wistfully the maiden...

The dragon groaned inwardly when his gazes wandered through the chamber.  
There were too many mortals... In his opinion, it was too crowded here; too stuffily...  
Squinting his eyes, he pressed himself deeper into the boy's hair – trying to blend the people out, although he knew that this wouldn't help much. He had not only become old-fashioned because of his absence from life alias thanks to his death, but also in some way he had become claustrophobic. His distrust into mortals had intermixed with the feeling of painful constriction; caused through everything which was concerned with the Agrius. Or rather, the deadly embrace...  
He could barely endure his position on the boy's head...  
“Alphinaud! Over here.” the voice of the Scions' leader emerged from the crowd.  
With a huge smile, the Elezen walked to Minfilia and three other members of aforesaid group. Standing next to the remaining Warriors of Light, they all seemed to exclude themselves from Ul'dah's stars and starlets. It was similar with the heads of Limsa Lominsa and Gridania – meanwhile, the dragon knew their names. Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn and Kan-E Senna were not fond of the present businessmen. And although he must be used to these characters, the leader of the native Grand Company, Raubahn Aldynn, tolerated them more than anything else.  
Lucia was here, too, and equally restrained like that General was. She, however, stood alone in another corner – by the side of a dark-haired Elezen with blue eyes and obvious enthusiasm.  
“Sir Aymeric must be overjoyed because of the festivity.” the boy said with his typical formal tune. A Miqo'te with stinging eyes in green color – a member of the Scions – nodded: “Yes, he surely is delighted or rather exhilarated because of this event.” Clearing his throat, Alphinaud questioned: “Have you seen... perhaps... a Dragoon in black armor and with a sharp tongue?” “A Dragoon? No, we haven't seen any of them here. Why do you ask?” the Lalafell next to the Miqo'te wondered. “Maybe he thought, that one of them would accompany Sir Aymeric!” a Hyur-woman with a mask plus an unperturbed smile on her face stated easygoing, before she passed Minfilia a drink over. “Yda, I don't believe that any of the Dragoons have time for that...” the Lalafell snorted.  
Chuckling minimal, the boy demurred: “She's partly right, Papalymo. In fact... I had hoped to see Estinien today on the celebration.” “The Azure Knight?” ,the Miqo'te said surprised, “I thought that this man never leaves Coerthas because of his task to protect not only Ishgard, but also it's treasure; the Eye! Why should he come to Ul'dah, when Nidhogg could attack every moment? I know you and the Warriors of Light have met him before, but... It makes no sense, that the Azure Dragoon would leave the city in order to simply celebrate with us.”  
Embarrassed, the boy coughed a little, before he responded severely: “Y'shtola, do not nettle me! Certainly, I do not expect Estinien to 'party' with us, when our victory was not more than the win in a single combat. I thought only... that Erik and Cecilia would enjoy his presence.” “Ah, that's right... They have befriended the Azure Dragoon lately, correct?” Papalymo asked curious. Yda agreed: “Yepp, they are buddies – as much as I know from the other Warriors. They get along.”  
'Cecilia and getting along with someone who kills dragons...?'  
Midgardsormr was bewildered by that information. In fact, he doubted, that any of Ishgard's knights would tolerate her attitude to not annihilate the 'pangolins'. For this reason, it sounded like an error, that – of all things – the Azure Knight should be a friend of the odd archmage.  
With confusion, he stared indecisive at the Scions.

“Commandant Leveilleur...?” a voice hissed from behind.  
Turning around, the teenager asked: “Yuyuhase? Is something wrong?”  
A Lalafell in that direful, blue uniform saluted under Midgardsormrs austere gaze, before he said: “There is a business which you must settle now, unfortunately. I wish I would not have to disturb you and the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, but it's too important as if it could wait... You have my explicit apologies, sir.” Sighing, Alphinaud approached Minfilia: “I am sorry, but this sounds really not like the type of problem which I could retard...” “It's okay, don't worry. Maybe Erik and Cecilia will take a while before they can join us – so, you have surely time to settle the issue.”  
The boy nodded, before his expression became neutral; a businesslike poker face.  
He followed the Dunesfolk Lalafell in the manner of a leader. All steps were set in the confident, arrogant way he usually demonstrated in public. Midgardsormr wondered, if the mortals didn't see through this facade because the teenager himself denied his inner weakness. On the other hand, presumably only the Warriors of Light got to experience the private side of this child... Never fell any kind of comparison from their lips, which would place Alphinaud in the shadow of his famous, deceased grandfather. So, it was natural, that they were allowed to see... more.  
The Lalafell brought Alphinaud to an office, where several members of the Crystal Braves waited. Wrinkling his nostrils, Midgardsormr couldn't help but smelling a rat here. Something was wrong... Sharing the negative opinion of the Warriors, he stared observant at this Yuyuhase.  
Formally, the commandant asked: “May I ask now, which important business could not wait until the festivity comes to an end?” The Lalafell seemed to reflect on something, but it were no words. The dragons ears dropped, when he recognized the tiny hand-sign this mortal gave the other men. From the corners of his hilarious big eyes, Midgardsormr noticed instantly the sharp blade, which sank down on Alphinauds left shoulder. Surprisingly, the Elezen recognized the sword quickly, too, because he gasped before the metal made contact with him.  
The facial expression of the boy became bitter, while he lifted his hands as a symbol of submittal. Seeing that made the present Crystal Braves grin in a malicious way. One of them reported with obnoxious complacency to Yuyuhase: “Sir. Barring a few exceptions, we have detained all those with allegiance to the Scions. The Rising Stones is also under out control.” Aforesaid supervisor had a smile on his lips that could make someone sick, when he nodded simply. The Elezen must feel the same way, although his gazes were fixated on the blade close to his neck.  
Yuyuhase gave the rapporteur a short hand-sign without looking at him, whereupon that Hyur left instantly the office. Eyeballing Alphinaud grinning, the boy answered finally the Lalafells gaze. When the youngster spoke, his voice was unusual rough – filled with anger: “And what do you hope to achieve with this mutiny?” A shrug was the first reaction Yuyuhase gave. Then: “Why, that which we have striven for all along, Commander: The salvation of Eorzea.”  
The Lalafell folded his arms – having a self-satisfied expression within his pale rose eyes.  
In the same moment, three members of the Crystal Braves came threatening close to Alphinaud. 'Remanding someone' was the phrase which mortals used to describe this here... Midgardsormr was at odds with himself, if he should simply leave this disgusting event and better search for Cecilia... or stay with the poor boy who just had been betrayed in this very moment.  
It was not like anybody would prevent him from going... The Crystal Braves had surely no interest into a 'mere plaything'. But... The girl had wanted him to keep track of Alphinaud. Which meant, that he couldn't leave the child alone in such a hopeless occurrence...  
Muted growling, he stayed on the boy's head.

The traitors brought their former Commandant to a congregation of prison-cells.  
Noticing the moldy fetidness in the air, Midgardsormr was sure about the absence of windows.  
Looking around, he could witness the pathetic captives behind the thick, metallic bars. All of them were skinny and pale; resembling rather zombies than ordinary mortals. Yes, it was to be assumed, that the money-grubbing members of the Crystal Braves wanted Alphinaud to rot in this prison, too. Granted, that the Warriors of Light had been correct... Then, there weren't many loyal members left, who would come to a rescue of their leader. Or rather, could come...  
Midgardsormr doubted, that anybody of them knew the truth.  
When the Crystal Braves pushed Alphinaud into an empty cell, the dragon glared at them.  
Surely the boy was a nuisance... A naive child who didn't belong into political affairs... But still, even when he was just a dreamer, he was at least no manipulable wanna-be-hero. Probably, he cared as much for Gil as Midgardsormr did – namely not a fig.  
The dragons irises glowed piercingly, while Yuyuhase watched the boy smugly.  
In his complacency, the Lalafell had yet not closed the door – too busy he was with observing.  
Although there was no way he would interfere in the mortal's matters, Midgardsormr sat up and vellicated belligerent his ears; eyeballing the bothersome mortal. If he had met him in his true form, the dragon would have eaten the Dunesfolk at once as some kind of snack. He would have bitten that worthless worm several times with fullest pressure before swallowing him finally down.  
It surprised the dragon in secret, how much this imagination appealed to him.  
“Ah, isn't 'nice' here? So quiet and cool.” Yuyuhase smirked cynically.  
Almost hopping mad, Alphinaud responded: “Stop being self-important! I will not stay here forever and decay for the sake of your merriment. My friends surely will find a way to escape you traitors. That's something I guarantee you. And then, they will sooner or later get me out of this prison.”  
Giggling, the Lalafall replied: “Hehe, you swell-headed boy are so blue-eyed...!”  
“What do you want to adumbrate?” aforesaid one asked with a cold pitch in the voice.  
Yuyuhase chuckled and shook his head: “Your dear Scion-friends can't help you anymore. They are indicted to have planned a malfeasant complot against Ul'dah. To have poisoned the Sultana, which ended in Her Majesty's tragic death.” Alphinaud gasped, before he shouted: “What have you done?! How could you do this to the Sultana?! How could you betray me--- my friends like that?!”  
Laughing loudly, the Dunesfolk answered: “That's not even the most amusing part of the story! Teledji Adeledji was so shrewd, that he perceived that 'secret' meeting the Sultana had planned with the Warrior's leader and your favorite adventurer. And thanks to Her Majesty's naivety to trust her 'loyal' servant blindly, he got the perfect chance to let that woman mix a toxin into Nanamo's wine. He's by far the most cleverly person I have ever met.”  
“Then it was Teledji who corrupted the Crystal Braves...?!” the Elezen said wrathful.  
“Of course.” ,Yuyuhase nodded, “He was the one who financed us bounteous, although he used naturally proxies in order to conceal his identity. With so much money, how could I say 'No' to him, when there's nothing in the world which matters more for me? And with that point, it's self-evident, that I--- we, the Crystal Braves, want to safe his position in Ul'dah.”  
“And KILL the Sultana for that goal?! You took her life for THAT?!” the boy shouted enraged.  
Shrugging, the Lalafell said: “You shouldn't care anymore for her. If you want to know my opinion. In fact, it would be better, if you reflect on the fate of your pitiable friends. See, Erik and Cecilia deserve your concern at the most.” Swallowing loudly, Alphinaud whispered: “Wait a moment... You said, the Sultana was the one who had asked for a meeting with them...”  
“Aww, is it beginning to finally dawn on you...?” Yuyuhase crowed sardonic over the insight.  
Widening his eyes, the boy screamed: “They are your SACRIFICIAL LAMBS?!”  
The outcry echoed in the whole prison. In Midgardsormrs ears, too.  
How could this cruel conspiracy be reality...?

The gratification on Yuyuhases face was disgusting.  
Clicking his fingers, the Dunesfolk explained: “Exactly! They were practically 'caught in the act of committing the sin' by Teledji and his servants, since only these two Warriors were together with Her Majesty in the royal chambers. Nobody else was present. Nanamo lay dead on the floor – nothing in that situation seemed to have a reason for some explanations.”  
While Alphinaud needed a moment for digesting this information, Yuyuhase continued unperturbed: “I bet Raubahn will be wrathful to hear, that his trusted Erik and dear Cecilia have betrayed him. Perhaps, he will even punish them by himself, since they have killed nobody else but his beloved, precious Nanamo – and not just an ordinary girl of Ul'dah's streets.”  
Sashaying, the Lalafell walked grinning to Alphinaud.  
The boy, however, was practically paralyzed by this knowledge.  
And so was the dragon on his head. Midgardsormr was haunted by fell imaginations.  
When Yuyuhase stood right before the teenager, he said: “I'm sorry, kid, but this game was always nothing for such goody-goodies like you and your friends are. It's the fault of you Scions, that these pathetic adventurers have now to pay at first hand the price for your weak ideals. Most of all them – the leader of the Warriors of Light and his 'little sister'. They'll get killed because of you.”  
Alphinaud stared angry at his former abider, but was helpless in this moment.  
Laughing almost like a child, Yuyuhase added: “Let's come to the most amusing part of the story... In this very moment, your two friends lay totally handcuffed on the floor – being at the mercy of the most powerful, influential people of Ul'dah! Can you imagine this...?!”  
Midgardsormr felt, that his stomach wanted to vomit.  
He kept his retching-reflex down, but the need of heaving became stronger.  
With an unbelievable devilish expression, the Lalafell said: “I have to admit... that I like this idea. After all, your favorite adventurer wears today such an unreserved, sexy outfit for the celebration. She's for sure matching the image of a mage from the desert. A magician – able to perform dark, forbidden spells... But I bet, that she would also be a formidable... SLAVE.”  
The way this single word rolled over Yuyuhases tongue enraged the dragon to the core.  
“Just imagine it...” ,the Dunesfolk continued his mockery of Alphinaud, “Your good friend... or, should I say 'your best friend'...? The only way for her to stay alive... The only possibility to rescue the bare existence she owns from death... No other option left aside from giving up her liberty and serving endlessly the elite of Ul'dah... Doing, whatever they want from her... Whenever they want... Every day... Every night... Without pause... And even being THAT kind of slave...”  
Enough... It was just ENOUGH... There had already been too many details...  
He couldn't take the allusions to Cecilias possible future anymore...!

Midgardsormr saw red. His rage got the best of him.  
Without thinking – without reflecting on the aftermath, he spat a salvo of blue fire at Yuyuhase.  
Under his blazing eyes, the Lalafell screamed in pain, as the flames combusted his face. The attack horrified meanwhile the other attenders, since no one of them had expected the 'toy' to be actually something dangerous. But Alphinaud reacted nevertheless fast. Hustling Yuyuhase with full weight against a wall, he left running the prison-cell. His remaining 'custodians' tried at once to stop him, but the boy dodged their swords and accelerated as much as he could.  
“Thank you, little friend!” the child wheezed breathlessly.  
Frightened by himself, the dragon thought only: 'It is... too early to thank me...'  
In the end of the hallway right before them, another Lalafell appeared suddenly. But he didn't wear that terrible blue uniform. Instead, this tiny person had don an armor of Ul'dahs Grand Company – the Immortal Flames. Could it be, that he wasn't on the side of the Crystal Braves...?  
“Alphinaud! Follow me!” the stranger beckoned the boy full-throated over.  
Panting, the teenager said: “Your armament... You are the Flame's Vice Marshal...!”  
“That's correct!” the Lalafell answered smiling, before he knocked with a targeted punch a Member of the Crystal Braves in front them out. “I just learned about Teledjis plan – and that he wants to let the Scions of the Seventh Dawn look like the malefactors. With that information, I couldn't allow these traitors of blue-uniformed people to keep you imprisoned.” ,the Vice Marshal explained while they ran through the corridors, “But obviously, you can take care of yourself pretty well. Hehe!”  
Alphinaud shook his head: “No, that wasn't my achievement.”  
Then, he pointed at the dragon on his shock of hair. “This small guy here helped me. He's actually the companion of a dear friend of mine. But she lent me the little puppet in order to encourage me.” “Oh, this is so sweet!” the Lalafell responded cheerful and grinned under his helmet.  
Midgardsormr couldn't agree here.  
He had freed his temper... and interfered. That was inexcusable...  
No descendant would forgive him for losing control because of his stupid inducement...  
While the mortals left running the building, Midgardsormr hoped for the boy's sake, that Alphinaud would keep his mouth shut. If he turned out to be a snitch... the dragon would burn him at once. Listening to his sin... His impulsive punishing of the malicious tongue... It would be too much now, since he normally insisted on being as reserved as possible considering the maiden...  
Who cared about that burned face... It only mattered, that he had acted for her...  
“We must leave Ul'dah into the direction of Central Thanalan.” the Lalafell stated while he looked hastily around; presumably searching for the next-best Mini-Aetheryte. “Why, of all things?” “Because your friends will soon appear in this area, Alphinaud. There are old tunnels under the city, which end in the ruins of Sil'dih. The Scions were aware of the architecture which the founders had once constructed, so it's logical for them to use this exit-path. I would do that, too.”  
Nodding, the Elezen followed his supporter quickly to the wanted object, which brought them instantly to the city's gate. Recognizing the shining sun, the happenings within Ul'dah seemed to be rather a bad joke; an ordinary nightmare to Midgardsormr, than the cruel reality created by mortals. Never had he experienced before such a complot... Made by mortals in order to harm mortals.  
Somehow, his view at the world had been shaken once more.  
Although his own misstep was much worse...

The two mortals went breathless down the sandy street.  
In the distance, they could hear the homeless and fugitives talk loudly about the newest rumors considering the celebration of Ishgards victory. The most important information was, that Raubahn had been imprisoned. Presumably, he was indicted for slaying Teledji Adeledji.  
While the absconders seemed to be shocked about it, Midgardsormr didn't care for the news.  
If they had time for considering the fate of others... As they wished. But he had meanwhile payed way too much attention to the deeds of mankind. He knew, that dragons should better avoid them... And if mortals were wise, then they wouldn't interfere in affairs that weren't their own.  
His 'mount' became faster, when they approached a big hole close to a shallow river.  
Disinterested, the dragon gazed into the cavity – just in order to widen his eyes. There were ruins. Overthrown stone-pillars, mainly, but nevertheless it was clear, that men had once lived here.  
Among the leftovers, he could see an entrance. And actually, somebody left it.  
The person who appeared was Erik – followed with a little space between them by the four Warriors who had announced to join the celebration. Midgardsormr dropped impulsive his ears in solicitude, because he expected the worst possible situation to have occurred... But then, the Marauder stopped and turned around to the ruins; waiting with an impatient expression.  
The relief Midgardsormr felt spread over Erik's face, when Cecilia finally appeared.  
Typical for a mortal big brother, the Hyur took her hand quickly and ran together with his comrades up the hill until they reached the street. Simultaneous, Alphinaud and the Vice Marshal hastened despite their breathlessness in order to catch up with them.  
Although he had proven to be a little sustained, the boy hunkered partly down when they reached the adventurers. Breathing irregular, the Elezen closed his eyes, wherefore the dragon on his head looked crestfallen at him. In Midgardsormrs opinion, the child needed more training...  
While Alphinaud straightened up, he said raspy: “I am glad to see you safe, my friends! What about the others?” The Warriors looked with a sad expression at him; shaking their heads. Erik squeezed synchronous Cecilias hand, which caused her to lean herself against the Hyur. Although the dragon was still shocked by his concession considering the maiden, he couldn't help but feel jealous.  
Gritting his teeth, the Elezen cursed: “Damn that man! Teledji played me for a fool! I thought that the Crystal Braves were mine till the very moment I felt the blade at my back...” Raising his hand as a sign of agreement, the Vice Marshal declared: “There will be ample time for soul searching later. For now, we must put some malms between us and Ul'dah.”  
As if a higher force had heard him, a carriage moved by two Chocobos appeared.  
Without regard to the coachman, a merchant in yellow clothes sat in the vehicle; standing up when he saw the group on the street. Addressing Cecilia, he spoke with a dire accent: “Well, would you look who it is! Need a ride? I doubt it'll be half as excitin' as the last trip we took – not if I have anythin' to say about it, anyway!” Like he had spoken the keyword, in the distance they could hear the Crystal Braves and other henchmen of Ul'dah loudly searching for them.  
“Lolorito has send his myrmidons for capturing us, too.” Erik explained.  
The merchant nodded and said: “Let's not dwadle, eh? All aboard!”  
While they could see the torches of their persecutors prance over a bridge, the adventurers climbed one by one onto the carriage. Following, Erik helped Alphinaud and the Vice Marshal to get aboard, as the Chocobos started already moving, so that these two were the last ones who had to take a seat. The Lalafell didn't reflect a lot and sat down on the floor; into the direction from which they came. The teenager, however, went reluctantly to the benches, where he sank resigned at the wood.  
Midgardsormr perceived this as a sign to leave the child's head.  
Yet abashed by his mistake, he flew to Cecilias shoulder.  
Seeking shelter in her long hair, he didn't want the girl to see his shame.  
She tapped gently against his back, while she whispered only for him audible: “What happened...?” Grounding his fangs, he shook his head. “It doesn't matter...” His voice was too weak; too soft. Although she wouldn't see his expression here, the sound of his words must be equivocal...  
“I need to thank you for lending me your new buddy.” ,Alphinaud abruptly said restrained, “He was not only helpful for my courage, but also for my escape.” Cecilia tensed appreciable: “How...?” “Well, let's say he is much more flammable than I had expected. He enabled my getaway.”  
The dragon glanced with piercing eyes at the Elezen. But this didn't last long, as his irises recognized red weals on the maidens arms. “What have the mortals done to thee...?” he asked almost soundless; staring at marks all over her body. She had been handcuffed; he had known that. But... These injuries... looked partly like... weals of a... whip.  
“That's nothing. Before I healed them, they were bleeding. An archmage like me doesn't care much about such tiny scratches – unless they start ruining our clothes, of course.” Cecilia murmured and smiled at him when he studied her face worried. How could she not been frightened, he wondered. Hadn't she been caught by these false guards...? Hadn't they hurt her obviously...?  
The girl seemed unperturbed when it came to her own health. Rather, she watched her friends from the corners of her odd-colored eyes; attentively like he gazed at her marks. Begrudging, the dragon looked for a moment at the other mortals, as he wanted to know what she saw. Not, that they could surprise him in any way... Erik was as quiet as usually – sitting there like a statue with folded arms. His allies stared now and then skeptical into space, whenever a suspicious sound in the distance suddenly emerged. That Vice Marshall as well as the merchant, on the other hand, were practically relaxed as if they were on a simple journey, while Alphinaud looked like a bundle of nerves.  
When he realized once more, that the Elezen needed definitely more training – a mental one, too... A physical contact with his back distracted him unpleasantly from his thoughts. He tensed tightly, when Cecilias fingers wandered up and down his spine. “Thank you a lot for helping Alphinaud. Without you by his side, I think he would be now in a much worse condition.” she whispered softly. Snorting, he wanted to inform her, that he still wasn't happy about being touched like that... However, the tender hand went to his head – caressed his skin and ears. It was... acceptable...  
“Nobody tried to harm you, right? You're okay, yes?” the maiden asked hopefully.  
Midgardsormr couldn't stand her gentleness now, wherefore he hid his face again. He heard unwillingly her soft chuckle; felt her fingers gliding sensual over his long neck. The rage from before reappeared; making him want to burn another face of these Crystal Braves down. Those, who had hurt this special creature... Closing his eyes deeply ashamed by himself, the dragon buried his fangs into the flesh of his own lips. Leaving deep wounds there.  
'Why...? Why do I wish to protect her..?'

In the need of a distraction, he payed willingly attention to the mortals.  
The merchant spoke at the moment to Alphinaud: “I was stockin' up on supplies over in Vesper Bay, you see, when your sister come up an' begged a favor. Said her brother was havin' some trouble down in Ul'dah, an' likely needed a helpin' hand getting' away. Thinkin' them ruins would make a fine hidin' place, I decided to try there first... an' lo an' behold, there you were. Aye, an' judgin' by them soldiers as were pourin' out of the city, I arrived not a moment too soon...”  
The Elezen didn't answer. Presumably, he was not yet in the mood for a conversation.  
As the child didn't react, the merchant addressed himself to Cecilia: “Must've been fate that we happened to find you there though, eh?” Chuckling, the girl nodded. “Bremondt, you're our savior. Thanks a lot for picking us up as well.” “Hoho, you're welcome!” the Hyur responded.  
Of all things – when the mood seemed to be lifted a little – the resigned teenager opened his mouth: “I had thought to look out for Alisaie, but it would appear that she was the one watching over me. I've made such a mess of things...” The Warriors of Light breathed loudly in as if they were about to protest against the boys self-reproach, but it was impossible for them to find suitable expressions. Well, Midgardsormr understood their misery good enough... Words were not always sufficient.  
“An' who might you be, young sir?” Bremondt asked the Flame's Vice Marshal.  
Because of this keyword, the Lalafell stood abruptly up, turned around and took his helmet off. Under the expedient metal, he had hidden long hair in pale-brown color. It made his chocolate-eyes appear even darker. In the moment he saluted, it demonstrated the composure of a nobleman.  
“Pipin Tarupin, Vice Marshal of the Immortal Flames.” the young man introduced himself.  
'Ah, finally a male creature with formal manners.' Midgardsormr noticed slightly pleased.  
“I had been on the Ala Mhigan front these past few moons, but an urgent communication called me back to Ul'dah. Scarce had my boots touched the cobbles, though, when the streets erupted with cries of assassination. I immediately went in search of answers, and came across Master Alphinaud. Needless to say, I did not think his imprisonment was justified.” Pipin spoke in serious attitude like making a report to his supervisor. The Lalafell was obviously down-to-earth; not like aforesaid boy who was more pretender than anything else in the eyes of the dragon.  
Pipin folded his arms while he continued: “The blame plainly lies with the Monetarists. Their greed and corruption are well known to me, but that they took advantage of the situation with such unbelievable alacrity...” 'This is just how mortals are.' Midgardsormr thought unemotional.  
Bremondt started grinning: “Was it 'Pipin', you said? Ain't that the name of General Aldynn's lad?” The Lalafell nodded: “Yes, I am his son. Adopted, of course. 'twas only as we were leaving Ul'dah that I learned of Father's fate. Once I have seen you a safe distance away, I mean to return to the city and extricate him from this madness.” “Then you needn't travel no further than Black Brush.” ,Bremondt stated, “Our fugitives have a friend waitin' for 'em there.” The merchant hummed then in a good temper several cheery tunes.  
While the Warriors of Light seemed to enjoy the positive atmosphere this uncultivated man caused, Alphinaud was still sickening depressive: “I dreamed of bringing Eorzea salvation, but in the end... It was I who needed saving...” Erik snorted loudly in the same moment the dragon did it muted. Although Midgardsormr was not sure, if the Hyur was also annoyed by that weak, childish behavior – or if he rather intended to controvert these words.  
Yawning lowly, the dragon was too tired for reflecting on it.  
As the carriage slowed it's pace down, he felt the need of sleep claiming his concentration gradually. Soon, he would have to give in; like a true baby-dragon would. That body was derision first class, but there was no other way to accompany the maiden who leaned her head on Eriks shoulder. Although he as a Methuselah had lost his interest into mortals long ago, the interest into her future was strong enough to let him cling to this ridiculous shape.

The Warriors alighted the vehicle when it finally stopped; followed by Pipin and Alphinaud.  
Midgardsormr took a seat on her scepter, because he didn't want to claw into Cecilias boot this time. If he should fall asleep now, she surely would be troubled in case she had to mount a creature or another carriage – and that meant another improper contact with her if she lifted him up.  
Bremondt saw the adventurers including Pipin and Alphinaud off; following his exact words was already a task Midgardsormrs ears couldn't cope with. The vulgar diction overburdened his attention clearly too much, additional, so he focused rather on the Vice Marshal.  
“The most unassuming folk can prove to be our greatest allies. That fellow was a passing merchant, yet he lent us aid without a moment's hesitation – or any hint of concern for his own safety. Though I can well imagine how a man could feel inspired to risk all in your presence. Father spoke often of you Warriors of Light. Of Erik and Cecilia at the most. Therefore, I have long looked forward to our first meeting. Needless to say... this is not at all how I envisioned it.” the Lalafell stated.  
After his praising words, he clumped to the apathetic Elezen who looked motionless at the ground. Warily, Pipin uttered: “Master Alphinaud, you must not give in to despair. That would only play into our enemies' hands! So long as you and the Warriors are free, we may still set things right.”  
The dupe replied hopeless: “Forgive me, Marshal Tarupin, but I...”  
A raucous voice interrupted him: “Alphinaud, my boy – sorry to keep you waiting!”  
Midgardsormr let his tired eyes search for the owner of this poised 'instrument'. A Hyur ran into their direction – an engineer, according to his clothes. The man had snow-white hair like Alphinaud, but owned a pair of sky-blue eyes instead of marine-blue ones. It was impossible to tell the age of this foreign mortal, since his beard falsified the facial features a little.  
“Cid? What are you doing here?” aforesaid Elezen asked barely surprised in his depression, while the Warriors of Light seemed to be pronounced delighted. “Pulling you out of the fire, as usual! Your merchant friend told me everything.” the Hyur responded.  
Pipin was as excited as the adventurers were: “Truly? Then he is no merchant but an angel in peddlers' clothing... But tell us: How do you intend to bear our friends to safety?” “I hid my airship; the Enterprise but a short distance away. All I need is a destination.” the engineer explained. Folding his arms, the Flame's Vice Marshall mumbled: “We must find a place beyond the reach of both the Monetarists and the Crystal Braves...”  
“Coerthas.” ,Alphinaud said suddenly, “Ishgard will not suffer the intrusion of foreign forces in their territory.” “Sounds like the perfect place for us, yeah.” Erik agreed instantly with this idea. “That settles it. With me, everyone!” Cid ordered grinning.  
Pipin shook his head: “Not me, I fear. Unfortunately, I must remain here. I dare not abandon Ul'dah to the Monetarists and their cronies. You may be certain that they will seek to defame you – both here and in the other city-states. But know that I shall do my utmost to thwart their every effort. Frankly, I do not expect it to be much of a challenge. The small-folk will not turn so easily on the Warriors of Light and their allies, no matter what the Monetarists claim.”  
“Marshal Tarupin, I... I know not what to say.” the Elezen said; speechlessness consumed him. Snorting with laughter, the companions of Erik and Cecilia could barely hold back their amusement. Presumably the two mortals enjoyed this moment likewise, yet they seemed too tired for joining it – at least the Au Ra wasn't in a fitting condition as much as Midgardsormr could tell.  
While Cid was also faintly controlling his jest, Pipin laughed: “Hah! Now THAT Father would labor to believe! But enough talk – you must go, Master Alphinaud. Your airship awaits!” The boy answered halfhearted the Lalafell's wave of both hands, before he gazed inquiring at the Engineer. The Hyur understood apparently at once, because he dashed suddenly away. Cecilia and Erik were the first to follow him; their four friends pursued them together with Alphinaud.  
Midgardsormr could quickly see the airship in the distance; a small exemplar in silver and blue.  
While he examined the construct with his eyes, he found it harder and harder to leave his lids open. The metal reflected the sunlight in an unpleasing way, so that it played into his necessity's hands. Very soon, he would lose consciousness – if he struggled or not.  
“Up, up!” ,Cid called the Warriors and Alphinaud impatient, “There's no rest for the righteous!” Reaching the Enterprise as the first person, the Engineer eyeballed the others with a severe look. Erik, on the other hand, sighed sharply and made his authority heard: “If you had been earlier here, we were already out of Thanalan! So stop making stress! Got it?!”  
The Warrior's leader reached the airship a short instant later; turning immediately around to them and reaching out for Cecilia. When he grabbed her hand, he whispered: “When we're in Coerthas, let a doctor take care of your wounds, okay? If it comes to a serious inflammation, even your magic won't be that helpful.” The girl smiled minimal and nodded; a smile Erik answered at once.  
Weakly in his urgency of sleep, Midgardsormr raised his brows a little in wonderment.  
That Hyur, who helped now his other companions plus the boy to get up... Could it be, that Cecilia was the only weak spot which this gruff man had? He practically snatched the other hands while pulling his comrades onto the Enterprise; completely abrasive in comparison with the gentleness when holding the maidens hand. Even their Whitemage-Lalafell and Bard-Miqo'te experienced despite their status of being women not the same caution like the archmage.  
Well, if that guess should be the truth... Then, they had at least one thing in common.  
For Midgardsormr, the girl was the only mortal who mattered in some strange aspect to him.  
He wanted to deny it – with all force he had. Because if he wouldn't do it, he wouldn't be any longer a dragon as well as father whose children had endured unspeakable agony. But... He could call her doubtlessly a friend who had proven to not harm his kind. The only mortal who hadn't been manipulated by the Dravanian Horde and was therefore no duplicitous heretic.  
She was... pure. In a way not even the heretic's ambitious leader was.  
Midgardsormr groaned muted when sleep caught him.  
This maiden disarrayed his mind too much...


	5. Chapter 5

# Chapter Five

Quiet, undisturbing sizzling-noise woke him gently up.  
The feeling of fluffy fabric was all around his body; keeping his temperature stable.  
Midgardsormr could smell fresh--- no, icy air, when he heard somebody opening a door.  
Blinking lazily, he saw a Lalafell walking into this foreign room that must be located in Coerthas, since he recalled how displeasing the touch with these breezes were. The Dunesfolk gazed friendly into the chamber, but her eyes were filled with sadness.  
As if she was trying to rather distract herself than the one who she spoke to, the woman twaddled: “I wonder if Yugiri will search for her mask. After all, she's meanwhile used to it. But it would be totally sad if she would continue to hide her face. Don't you agree, Alphinaud?”  
Still exhausted, the dragon turned his head minimal around until his eyes found the Elezen.  
The boy sat on a chair, too, but wasn't wrapped into a blanket. Nodding subtly, he responded: “That's right, Tataru. But I find it in the first instance very strange, that she thought it was necessary to hide the fact that she's just like Cecilia an Au Ra.” “Hm... Perhaps because Ceci looks more like... the rest us? Uhm, I-I don't mean her hair! Or her eyes! Or her scales, of course! I mean her skin! Yugiri is compared to Ceci so... pale and all! I bet she didn't feel well to see such a rosy skin next to her very own, ashen exemplar. She didn't want to look like a corpse, I guess.”  
The dragon yawned disinterested and turned towards the chimney next to his chair.  
Mortals and their problems... As if somebody was responsible for his or her very own genes...  
“Oh, just look, Alphinaud! Ceci's tiny companion is finally awake!” Tataru said cheerful. His ears twitched in the second he heard this. 'Who do YOU call tiny?' the dragon thought cantankerous; eyes burning for a moment in red light. Of all things, a Lalafell dared to say that about him... Unbelievable. For his true shape, she wouldn't even be a snack... Only a single bite.  
“This puppet is full of surprises, isn't he?” ,Alphinaud became suddenly more talkative, “Imagine: First of all he helped me to escape the prison – with a salvo of fire! Then, he stayed the whole time by my side without a break. He left my head not until we found Cecilia plus the other Warriors AND sat with them safely in the carriage. I have never heard of minions being so loyal to someone who isn't their rightful master. So, he must be a very intelligent creation. Intelligent and lifelike. That's why I wasn't surprised, when he suddenly fell asleep when we reached the Enterprise.”  
Tataru neared the chair on which he lay; a kindly smile for Midgardsormr on her lips.  
Dropping his ears as a silent warning, the dragon eyeballed her full of distrust. She ignored it – naturally! – and tried to pat his head. It was a frustrating déjàvu, but he still had to remind himself, that this Dunesfolk was not Erik. Therefore, he only hissed unaffable at her with exposed fangs.  
“Oh... I fear he doesn't like me...” she said and withdrew from him a little.  
Alphinaud chuckled slightly and stated: “Well, I think he doesn't like me, neither.”  
“Correction, friends: He doesn't like anybody of us.” a familiar voice said in the same moment as the wooden door opened for another time. Midgardsormrs goony companion entered the room – still dressed in her scandalous magician-outfit; still with the Blackmage-scepter on her back.  
He stared at her with a piercing expression while she walked to him; indignant because of her words which proved for another time, that she believed only into his bitterness considering mortals. Thus, he didn't even think of affirming the opposite. When she came to a standstill right in front of him, the Methuselah in the shape of a baby-dragon snapped her uncoated hand when she reached out.  
“See? He bites if somebody comes on a personal level too close to him. In other words, he prefers to have the dominance while we interact with him. Having him on our shoulders or heads is fine, since we are then his vehicles. But never try to fondle him. He may tolerate caressing barely when I'm the one who tries it, yet that's already the limit.” the Raen explained offhandedly.  
Tataru nodded: “Yeah, this makes sense... After all, you're his master.”  
Before Midgardsormr could protest via a salvo of fire, Erik and the other four Warriors entered chewing the chamber; holding a few sandwiches, a teapot and several cups in their hands. “Haurchefant was so friendly to loan the kitchen to us. I'll make later dinner, too.” the leader said and handed respectively one sandwich plus cup out to Cecilia, Alphinaud and Tataru.  
While the other mortals took seats around the wide desk, the Au Ra grabbed a seat-cushion and planted herself next to Midgardsormrs chair. Although her friends were busy with each other, unfortunately the dragon couldn't avoid wondering about her reason to come to him. He might have not bitten as harsh as he could have conducted, yet it had been intense enough to leave marks.  
But thinking about marks... Her weals were gone. This was a relief.  
“You want to eat something? Or at least drink a little bit?” the maiden asked him and leaned herself against the seating of his chair; studying his face attentive with a neutral mien. Meditative, he gazed at the food in her hand and the tea in her cup for a few seconds. Then, when his eyes found hers, hesitantly the dragon nodded with a helpless expression. She answered instantly with a smile – beautiful, like he described only this one mortal simper.

While Cecilia shared her food with him, he didn't leave the fluffy blanket completely. And he dove at once back into the fabric, after they had eaten everything up. She smiled softly at him; the Crystal and the Jewel sparkling in contentedness. He couldn't completely force himself to successfully push that direful addiction to her away. Hence, his face was heated by shame. And longing.  
'A long time passed by, since I yearned for the friendship of a mortal...' he thought doleful.  
Despite the fact, that it revealed his mental weakness, he sighed in complacency when the maiden corrected for him the blanket around his base of the neck. She had been the one who placed him into this comfortable 'bed'; he was sure of it. “Thou art unnecessarily kind...” he mumbled calmly and let her maugre his indirect protest adjust the fabric around his legs.   
Oh Hydaelyn, he enjoyed this here too much... It altered his intentions too much...  
The warmth coming from the chimney; the softness of this cloth; the maiden's care...  
Midgardsormr had no interest left for the other mortals in this room, yet for her all the more.  
Impulsive – when she wanted to drew her hand back from the blanket – he pressed his head frivolous between her fingers. Of course he realized his mistake at once, but still he sought her palm and hid his face there. Eyes shut, he inhaled her scent; snuggled to her silky skin.  
The dragon could feel her perplexed gazes all over his body – it was, as if his very own conscience was staring disbelieving at him. And indeed... If the maiden as a mortal recognized the falseness in this odd situation, then it was just logical that his awareness as an ancient dragon did the same.  
But he couldn't retire. Not now. Even with the sheer shame amongst his mind.  
This gesture was an error, he knew. And he would regret it--- He already regretted it.  
But Midgardsormr wanted to feel her. To assure her, somehow and without words, that he was glad about her presence or rather bare existence. If the Mothercrystal had made a mistake to chose her for waking him up--- He did not know that. And he didn't care for this. The maiden herself was reason enough to stay with her and watch every step she made. He couldn't formulate this sentiment because he wasn't all too sensitive thanks to his age. But... She should believe into him...  
She became precious to him... With every day more.  
By this realization, he breathed heavily out – trembling inwardly.  
When he raised his ridiculous small head, his nose ground along her skin.  
For a moment, he couldn't restrain himself, so he opened his muzzle and tasted her.  
Cecilias eyes were widened as his lids parted; allowing his irises to look at these open windows. She showed only one other reaction – and this was blushing in delicate pink color. Satisfied by this, he licked once more with lowered eyelids over her palm. Her taste was surprisingly sweet... Sugar, but not flower. Not peach-blossoms. Rather sweet like fruits. Delicious like them... She was lovely.  
'What am I thinking...?!' he noticed with fear of himself.  
His own eyes widened, Midgardsormr retired slowly while staring into space. The dragon's thoughts were constantly flashing over, because his impulses had brought him in severe difficulties. For her, this occurrence was belike just a simple badinage – after all, Cecilia snorted now resigned. But...   
For him, this was truly no bagatelle. He had given her a sign of clear sympathy. The fondness, which he had granted once his own children when they were young. Surely another dragon would mistake that situation for a test-purpose of the Raens sapidity... After all, she tasted indeed good... However, no older dragon would lick a mortal's skin without the intend of guzzling her.  
And Midgardsormr counted himself to aforesaid generation.  
Plus... If another dragon would have read his mind, then the gesture would no longer only look like a fatherly action. He had enjoyed her taste... in an addicted manner. A measure, which was rather... common for taking an interest in 'physical amusement'.  
“You're really an old meanie...” the girl grumbled meanwhile and folded her arms.  
The dragon sighed and wondered, if she had originally planed to utter the flowery word 'scumbag'. At least, that was how he felt at the moment. He hadn't bantered her – made no bad joke. Albeit... his behavior must give her that impression, since he had bitten her before. And this was worth for insulting him a thousand times. She was right to feel like a toy.  
“I apologize...” ,he murmured with downcast gaze, “Thou hast not deserved this brazen hoax.” Cecilia slackened her arms and said: “Well, as long as you don't think of me as your personal snack, I'm not angry with you. But you like it to cause awkward situations for me, don't you?” Jerkily, Midgardsormr lifted his head and eyeballed incredulous her serious face. In his opinion, it was just the other way round – she pushed him frequently into malaise. Although... he must admit to himself, that she had endured already often enough his elderly alias geriatric harshness.   
Turning his gaze away from her; to the chimney, he chuckled inept.  
“Thou hast my sympathy.” his voice carried the words weakly.

Hail fell down from the clouded sky.   
Normally, Midgardsormr wouldn't have cared much for this, but his new shape was yet filigree.  
While the Chocobos trotted along a protective cliff in order to avoid contact with the ice-gobbets, the dragon demonized once more the disadvantage which this baby-body offered. It was a miracle, how the mortal resistibility against the weather outmatched his own; at least for now. He doubted, that the Warriors and their birds would already keep up with ordinary, grown-up dragons.  
Edgar gave a tender 'Kweeh.', when Cecilia pulled the hood of his harness properly over his head. Dressing a Chocobo like a Whitemage had been pointless in Midgardsormrs eyes; beforehand – now, he realized, that the girl hadn't done it only for flighty glamour. Actually, her white bird seemed to endure the atmosphere much better than his fellows. Even Erik's smoke-black Chocobo froze despite the heavy armor it wore.  
“And you think the Ixal will not recognize us, yeah?” an adventurer asked, who had joined the troop for reconquering several stolen properties. The Warrior's leader nodded: “The volley hurts them – just like us. Nobody stands per will under an icy shower.” “I still don't get it why we have to do this. Doesn't Camp Dragonhead employ a few own errand-boys? Why can't they fetch the stolen stuff?” another unknown face complained. “Well, nobody said 'we'. If you're not interested into the reward, then go home. The Warriors of Light; we owe asylum to Coerthas. Not you guys. You can still wander around and care not a fig for the politic of Ul'dah. Must not have in mind what your host plus friend risks because of your safety.” Erik stated bluntly.  
Uncomfortable silence surrounded the mortals until the Bard-Miqo'te – as apparently usual for her – lightened the general mood with a few jokes. Midgardsormr should really try to memorize her name instead of labeling her always by her job, but she was and would always be just a mortal creature in his draconic opinion. Particularly, he recalled 'Erik' only because he found that man annoying. Otherwise was no need to remember any of these adventurers by name. They were exchangeable. Replacing one Bard with another wouldn't make any difference. If they used the same gear, everybody who counted to their funny organization was a mere gear-wheel.  
As if she had heard his thoughts, Cecilia harrumphed loudly.  
Her allies gazed therefore irritated at her, but she excused herself quickly by mentioning a cough she had developed this morning. Not, that the dragon believed this alibi, because he knew that aforesaid sore-throat wasn't as bad as she demonstrated now. Ergo: She lied to her companions.  
The archmage let Edgar decelerate his speed, so that they brought up the rear of the group. Snorting, Midgardsormr eyeballed her face unimpressed in the moment she looked at him. She was angry, obviously, but he hadn't done anything wrong, which was why he sat unperturbed on her shoulder; waiting for her to tell him whatever whirred through her mind.  
“Why do you constantly behold Tammy with that dismissive gaze? She has only cheered the others with her kindliness up! … And don't tell me, you're allergic to sensitivity.” the maiden said sharply in a manner similar to Erik's behavior. The dragon would not care much for this – because he could blindly trust into her dulcet nature – if there just wouldn't be the expression of her left eye...   
The Crystal was stinging with the pressure of thousand needles while she looked at him.  
Ah, he had forgotten how protective she was...  
The Raen was grim whenever someone harmed those who were close to her.  
For a moment, he had been shorttaken by the unusual severity. But there was no reason to fear her – she was no dragon who would rupture his body. Thus, he cocked his head slightly and replied: “Pardon, but thy friend acts fatuitous when she cares for the view of these strangers. Thy leader was not mistaken to rebuke them for disencouraging the troop. So, it is a useless effort to be kind.”  
“And you think that teamwork functions this way, yes?” ,she snapped, “Listen, we adventurers are absolutely NO dictatorship in which a single person is in charge for everything. We don't follow such hierarchies like the states and Grand Companies do. Everybody is important and everybody has his or her very own thoughts! You dragons seem to have a hierarchic system – I don't know if you even understand anything I say now. But discipline and kindness work hand in hand for us – there's no simple black-and-white-morale like you want to force on me. It's no mathematics where only 'right' and 'wrong' exists. This insular concept of life... That's your thing; not ours!”  
The dragon lifted his brows.  
He? And thinking in such a narrow-minded manner?  
How negative was the view the Au Ra had considering him; truly...?  
Speechless, Midgardsormr studied her wroth face. Whenever this maiden showed him new depths of her personality, he sometimes questioned if it was still the same girl who talked to him. Sometimes... Cecilia appeared to him like somebody else. Somebody, who was much older and clearly less naive than she was – in a mental AND emotional kind. She partly resembled dragons in these moments; the oldest exemplars. In a way so truthful that he couldn't deny it.   
Remarkable about this behavior was, however, that she recognized in these situations specific facts which mortals should rarely do. He would dare to say, that she could sneak into his mind, although Midgardsormr had never heard of mortals who were capable of telepathy. Yet it was irrefutable, which precise comprehension Cecilia demonstrated in his near. She must have a sixth sense for him – if not for all dragons – whenever she just 'guessed' something.  
“Yes, my world-view is indeed outmoded.” ,he shrived with closed lids in order to avoid the Crystal and it's stinging gaze, “And perhaps I am too sober... Down-to-earth in an extremum, if thou insist on calling it this way. But I am not forcing it on thee. At least thee as a single person. Other mortals – I will not even try to comprehend their motives. But thou art spared as thou hast Hydaelyns guard as well as attention even while Her gift is sealed within thee. Hence, thou enjoy my consideration. This and my honest attempt to understand thee better than an ordinary attender.”  
Parting his eyelids minimal, he looked directly up to her mien with piercing irises. The expectation to meet Cecilias unfriendly gaze once more was choking him to an extant where he became irately, for which reason he prepared himself for the worst.  
How surprised Midgardsormr was, when he discovered the opposite.  
The maiden was sulking; brows knitted and cheeks discolored in pink staining.  
She stared at his face without blinking plus ground her teeth simultaneous. For a moment, it seemed as if she would even bite into her lower lip. He should find this childish, but it reminded him of himself as well as his own offspring when they weren't grown-up. Although she wasn't talking – exceptionally – the dragon was satisfied with the effect his words had now on her.  
Nevertheless, there was something he had to prevent this time from occurring: “I am not making any kind of fun in this instant. I do want to understand thee. That's an honest wish of mine.”  
Reluctantly, she nodded and looked away from him. There was still this delicate blushing on her face which drew him emotionally closer to her. Sighing resigned, Midgardsormr placed his 'hand' under her seadragon-like ear while he fought against the impulse to lean himself against her neck. Unfortunately, the cold air strengthened his need of her rather heated presence...  
“Do you freeze?” the maiden asked lowly. Before he could answer, she lifted him from her shoulder and placed him on her lap. Confusion spread over his mien; also panic as he didn't feel comfortable whenever she grabbed his body. But... It was pleasantly warm here.   
Despite the disgust for mortal touches, Midgardsormr decided to stay until the Warriors would reach their destination. After all, there was nothing wrong with taking advantage of her nice temperature... This contact to Cecilia was nothing personal; just like that ride back then in the Black Shroud.  
He was in control of the situation – there would be no undesired approaching of her.  
Nodding slightly, the dragon was sure to have convinced himself.

With a loud splash, the maiden caught the sixth fish within a short while.  
“Amazing, Ceci! I wish I had such a talent!” her Miqo'te-friend cheered joyful.  
The Raen giggled and replied: “Perhaps I have just more luck than you because I'm patient. Or it's again a measure of gear. You started fishing weeks after me, right? So, I bet it's no joke of the chef when he tells newcomers to always update their stuff whenever they develop better skills.”  
While the two women were chatting about the fishing-guild, Midgardsormr sat on a rock and stared into the water; filled with relaxation. Remarkable, how lively the fishes in this pond were. It was already an half hour ago, that the volley had stopped and revealed so a clear afternoon-sky – nevertheless the animals seemed yet to rejoice. Just as he did, in fact.  
The adventurers had quickly gathered all stolen objects without greater resistance, but the weather hadn't changed before they were back in Camp Dragonhead. Because of this awful experience – including several hits of the falling ice-pieces along his whole body – the Methuselah enjoyed every single moment under the warm sunbeams. Also, he found the plan of Cecilia and this Miqo'te... Tammy more than acceptable, to catch several fishes for today's dinner.  
Despite the circumstances which had caused the stay in Coerthas, Midgardsormr was indeed curious how skilled the Warrior's leader might truly be as a cook. Erik wasn't praising his snacks and meals for one-handed consumption, although the other adventurers were every time excited about them. Although even an ancient being could enjoy these things. Because of this, the dragon wanted to see which 'wonders' the Hyur could let happen when he possessed the right ingredients.   
But admittedly... Midgardsormr was skeptical about boiled or fried fish.  
Partly, he even hoped for Cecilia to allocate one or two small, raw animals to him.  
Not, that he thought negative about cooked meals... No, this wasn't the case when it came to him. Despite the nescience of the younger dragons, how good the food of men could taste, he had been one of those 'pangolins' who had once enjoyed the mortal hospitality. Yet, that was it... Once. Eternities had passed for the mortals since these happy days. Humanity had changed a lot...  
The chant of several birds distracted him, wherefore he lifted his head and looked up to the place where the tiny creatures sat. As if they were mocking the cold air plus celebrating the sunshine, sparrows gave their very best to make as much noise as possible. They even danced jumpily around in the moist snow. Ridiculousness was a fitting word to describe their actions, albeit they were – presumably – far away from being able to understand the word's meaning...  
Another loud splash filled the air.  
Paying once more attention to the two mortals, the dragon reminded himself, that they were in fact just like the silly sparrows. Left alone with a short lifespan to handle, all they could do was rushing in order to make use of the little time they had – which would usually end in the waste of hours. Eating, drinking, sleeping, working... All these things had no meaning if one died as fast as them. Above all, humane generations were necessary for finishing dreams that a single dragon could fulfill in one phase of his long life, easily. Mortals were a natural misconstruction.  
Yet... He had always been fascinated by them. It felt wrong to compare men with birds.  
No matter, how foolish they acted nowadays and how much their ideals irritated him at times...  
And after all, he was not perfect, neither. Jealousy zapped his brain a little as Alphinaud appeared, because the boy earned like always this sweet pitch of Cecilia that she had reserved for him alone. Luckily the teenager didn't stay with the two women as he was busy with getting a few ingredients for the dinner. Or rather 'fortunately', to be more precise... Midgardsormr was already a bit fed up with watching the friendliness between both white-haired mortals.  
Flying to the maiden, the dragon eyeballed hissing every step the Elezen made, until the child was finally out of sight. Only then he landed on her shoulder – realizing frustrated that she didn't notice or didn't care for his disapproval considering her interactions with Alphinaud. But that sentiment was on the other hand acceptable; compared to a new disturbance. Steps through the snow revealed, that there was somebody else who intended to visit the two fishers.  
Cecilias annoying white Chocobo went unhasty to them. Staring like always unaffable at him, Edgar barely tolerated Midgardsormr on the girl. Not, that this was a surprise... He had only acted like a well-behaved pet before thanks to the distracting volley. But now, the bird waited palpably for another chance... For trying anew some of these pecking-assaults.   
And he was determined to attack nobody else, above all.  
In fact, the chocolate-brown eyes had never shown any sign of disapproval whenever Alphinaud or other mortals came close to the maiden. The only disgust they revealed were focused on the dragon – a trait, which became slowly a true nuisance.  
Tss, if the bird could at least refuse Erik... Having this sentiment in common would make it easier; whether Edgar would still distrust Midgardsormr or not. But as fate could be a cruel thing, the very frustrating opposite was a fact: The animal with snow-white plumage adored the Warrior's leader. Realizing this before in the territory of the Ixal had become the most annoying information about Cecilias Chocobo. Because... When the bird was even fond of such a mannerless plus gruff man, there existed no possibility Edgar could ever accept this dragon here.  
Growling muted as the white creature came threatening close to his place on the maidens shoulder, Midgardsormr wondered, why this large 'pet' couldn't be tricked via the cute, innocent disguise which looked like a baby-dragon. He couldn't be aware, that the spirit in this corpus belonged to something as big and powerful, that only the physical death could bind it. Edgar couldn't know this. So, why must of all things HE have a larger brain than all the other Chocobos?  
Just as if he wanted to strengthen Midgardsormrs negative impression, Edgar pecked his head followed by a quick blow against the vulnerable ribcage. The dragon jerked in agony, but was ready to pay the pain instantly back. His red eyes were already shining in stinging light – he would rebuke the daredevil bird with an impressive flame hot enough to burn all feathers in its near down.  
But he hadn't expected, that someone else would lose patience.  
Fast as lightning, Cecilia stopped fishing, turned around and slammed the rod on Edgar's left wing. The wooden stick was similar to a whip in this moment; making the same sound in the air, even. Rather shocked than hurt, the Chocobo jumped and stepped backwards. Yet, he seemed not to be wrathful in any way. It was anxiety which spread instead over his face.  
All three of them – the dragon, the bird and the Miqo'te – stared at an angry Au Ra.  
“What have I told you about pecking him?!” the maiden snapped harshly and placed simultaneous her fists on the hips; emphasizing her yet suppressed rage. Edgar lowered his head in shame while something like an apology in Chocobo-tongue seemed to leave his beak. Cecilia eyeballed him with clear disbelieve in the eyes; the Jewel burned like fire and the Crystal was ice-cold.  
Words over words with a serious pitch fell now down on the bird.  
As Midgardsormr was distracted by them, he quivered in negative surprise when Cecilias free hand made casually contact with his injured ribcage. 'Quasi' casual, of course... She was obviously busy with telling Edgar off, but her fingers went volitional slowly over the damaged flesh.  
If she wouldn't hold the rod in the other hand, still, she would probably aim to grab him again... This imagination of her typical odd behavior was almost more unpleasant than the current touch... Yes, it was absurd, but a fortiori she was the cause for physical contact, a fortiori he felt jeopardized in every possible regard. Therefore, it was a good thing that she had to hold this fishing-rod.  
Eyes widened in restrained panic, he endured her fingers.  
But he was not sure about the possible outcome of this occurrence.  
Hmpf, now joined even Tammy the speech in order to make Edgar realize, that his doing was not acceptable or correct... The Miqo'te had seemingly not known, that the Chocobo had a problem with Cecilias new 'puppet', wherefore she wanted to support a quick, peaceful solution for this trouble... What a bad joke, that the women wanted to force some sense into Edgar's head, when a few battles offered most likely the needed permanent decision.  
The hand on his ribcage still didn't go away.  
All the words spoken by the women reached his ears suddenly only like an echo. His vision became blurry a fortiori the contact with his body lasted. He wanted to scream, that Cecilia should stop it, but he couldn't as long as the Bard was around. Using telepathy instead would be an option, if this wouldn't mean at the moment to burn the maidens mind with his mental pressure.  
Indeed, his physical death had left his soul with awful weaknesses...  
And this small body made it worse.  
He wanted to bite her, when she grabbed his corpus with that single hand; holding him like a kitten. Midgardsormr was close to ruin her face with a fire-salvo, but just in this moment she switched from fisher to whitemage. She placed him like a baby into her arms while starting to heal his injury. Taken aback by this experience, his senses regained their usual functionality.  
With a clear vision, he saw, that she gave him a look full of frustration.  
A silent insult lay in her eyes; telling him how crestfallen she was about his missing confidence into her intentions. Cecilia wasn't trusting his reasons for staying with her, but she expected him to have no doubts about the relationship they had formed. He felt this with every fiber.  
She let go of him before he could consider the fact, how similar the two of them were.  
As if nothing had happened, she and Tammy continued their smalltalk plus returned to their fishing. Letting both him and Edgar stand next to them as if the confused guys were thin air. The Chocobo gave several irritated 'Kweh?', before he sat down without any complaints. Midgardsormr didn't feel like testing his luck, yet he took also a seat. There, he recognized with wonderment, that Edgar didn't try another attack despite the close range. Actually, the bird braced himself, as it seemed.  
While they watched silently the two fishers, the dragon felt a little over-strained.  
Had the harsh confrontation this time been enough to tame Edgar's instincts?  
If so... Why? What was it, what the Chocobo could see, but he not...?  
There must be something about Cecilia... Something... different.

Wrinkling his nose, Midgardsormr watched the unusual view.  
Erik had conquered the whole kitchen for himself; entirely indulged in cooking.  
As the dragon was used from the brunette man to wear the ugly outfit of a marauder alias warrior, seeing him now in a proper culinarian-attire felt already wrong. But even more unrealistic was it, which precision the Hyur possessed while using his utensils. Apart from the harsh steel-blue eyes, nothing reminded of the impolite person who was more on the rough side of humanity.  
This here looked like a civilized, skilled cooked. A handsome exemplar.  
“Isn't he fantastique?” the maiden finished her question voluntary with a french term. Sighing, Midgardsormr cocked his head plus folded his short arms. He shifted his weight on her shoulder, before he gave Cecilia an answer: “Erik must be a devil. Another explanation would not suffice... However: Thou hast not informed me, which skill truthfully slumbers within him. I expected him rather to be a lucky cook instead of a serious gourmet. Watching this occurring explains definitely, why he does not praise the simple meals he creates.” “And therefore I'm sure, that you will enjoy every single dish in this evening. When you liked his snacks, his masterpieces will bewitch you.”  
The Methuselah nodded and payed again attention to the cook.  
While the other Warriors had been kicked out of the kitchen by Erik, the Midlander seemed to enjoy Cecilias presence. Now and then his eyes searched for her; testing, if she followed his actions. Because she gazed attentively at his hands, she might not see this, but her unrestrained curiosity pleased the usually bearish man. In fact, he smiled at the most only for the maiden.  
Midgardsormr wondered honestly, why they were as close as siblings.  
Nothing about the two mortals suggested a strong bond; in consideration of logic. Erik was not open and especially not charming. His thoughts were a secret until he let them become audible in a blunt, impolite manner. And apart from his duties as a leader, he never acted extroverted. To see that man as some kind of big brother did still not explain, why Cecilia was fond of him.  
For the dragon, it was easier to tell, why the other way round worked.  
After all, he wanted to stay in the maiden's near, too.  
The aromatic smell of fresh fish and condiments in a frying-pan filled the air.  
Despite his strict intention to not judge about the cooking-process, Midgardsormr let the neat odor wander through his nostrils with an undeniable amount of pleasure. Yes, the faint taste on his tongue was more than tempting... He would surely eat later several bites. The smell alone was good enough to ignore his original skepticism. Raw fishes existed plenty enough for some other time.  
Actually, everything here had a nice aroma. The fish, the flesh, the vegetables, the Coerthan fruits and the different spices... One could envy mortals for their creativity when it came to food. Even if their lives were meaningless to the almost eternal dragons, it was remarkable what men could do with the gift of existing. He recognized this over and over in the last while.  
It was a little bitter, that of all things Erik reminded him of this.  
On the other hand... Who would have guessed, that this Midlander with the dark brown hair and steel-blue eyes was behind the usual attitude of a marauder a genius of the kitchen?  
Curious, the dragon left Cecilias shoulder and flew in circles over Eriks head. The Hyur gave him for six seconds an irritated look, before he ignored the 'puppet' in the air for the sake of his cooking. This allowed Midgardsormr to watch each motion of the chef at close range – surprisingly, doing so amused him in a childish way. The dragon couldn't recall to have ever seen a master's routine, wherefore the whole process was fascinating or rather entertaining. He enjoyed it truly.  
Never had humane passions delighted him more than now.  
Caught in his curiosity, he didn't recognize the moment when Cecilia left the kitchen.  
Just when Erik prepared the last part for dinner, Midgardsormr broke free from his half-trance and noticed the maidens absence. Despite his wish to watch the Hyur's doing until everything was ready, the dragon didn't feel well with not knowing, why the Archmage had decided to disappear. Hence, vanishing instead of staying here for gazing at a mortal's cuisine was beyond question.  
A last glimpse at the delicious dishes – then the dragon was gone, too.

He flew hasty through the large building.  
The atmosphere coming from the stony walls felt awfully cold compared to the heated kitchen. Since he sat this day usually on Cecilias shoulder, he hadn't perceived the cool air with the same strong intensity like he did now. Growling because of the uncomfortable sensation on his skin, Midgardsormr stopped for a moment as his whole corpus shivered uncontrollably.  
The bad hoax never ended... He was already tired of this disguise, but there was no other option left for accompanying the Au Ra, still... Although his strength wasn't gone, it rested within his true, unfortunately lifeless shape. There was only a tiny part he could extract from his dead body in order to travel through Eorzea. And this energy was yet not completely accessible...  
Apart from this nuisance, it was plain, that a full-grown dragon would be more than a problem here. All people in Coearthas who weren't heretics feared dragons deeply and (respectively or) wanted with all their desperate might to see them dead. They would attack all kinds of dragons – no matter, if it was a standard full-grown exemplar or a creature as huge as his original body was.  
While he came across several knights, Midgardsormr felt their skeptical gazes all over his corpus. Fortunately they regarded him as a detailed toy that belonged to one of their heroes... Otherwise, they would probably take him from his 'owner' away – whoever it could have been, if Hydaelyn hadn't chosen a person who was classified as a sympathizer – and vivisect him...  
The dragon shook his head with closed eyes.  
Once more he thought too negative about mortals. Indeed, they could anatomize him, but the men in this settlement were only akin to the people of Ishgard. Here, corruption was only weak; no matter how intense the real vitiation within the city-state's walls might be. Judging was out of place.  
A faint sound attracted his attention; bringing him back to the here and now.  
Still clueless about Cecilias whereabouts, he followed it into the direction of an half-opened room. While he moved cautious through the air, the dragon also realized, what this muted sound meant. He remembered now... It was the tune of a needle diving through a rougher fabric. Sewing.  
Midgardsormr had lost the connection to mankind thanks to their betrayal to such a grave extent, that his memorization partly rejected every unnecessary work. This realization made him wonder, how his children felt about this topic... Did they unconsciously push all positive experiences away, even if this would leave them empty inside – as much as they denied the good moments with men? And if they truly did this... Would they consider a change?  
Would they consider a second chance for mortals?  
His notions irritated him rootedly. But how should he focus on them, when he saw now something so unexpected – yet so delectable, that he lost every train of thought...?  
There was the maiden he had been looking for. Holding a pincushion and a needle. A pullover made of poorest fabric pinned between the wooden tool, while she sewed with high-qualitative yarn, although other weavers would find this action preposterous. The clothes' young owner sat on a stool next to the maiden – a girl; almost a teenager. She watched the skilled crafter suited in a red, aristocratic-looking dress, as if a queen would condescend to repair her cheap pullover.  
Purest gratitude was entirely written in the girls eyes.   
“My Mama had made it for me, you know...?” ,the Elezen-child spoke shyly and pushed a thick, brunette lock out of her face, “But she died one year ago... It's the last gift she ever gave me... So... Nobody could repair it – my Papa is awfully bad in sewing...”  
The girl fell silent, but Cecilia only chuckled gently about it and responded calmly like a mother: “Well, now you got somebody who can fix the holes for you. And I can teach you a few techniques, which would allow you to repair clothes by yourself. In case, of course, that you like this idea.” Clapping, the child replied enthusiastic: “Yes! That would be wonderful! Oh.. Uhm... Excuse me, my lady, that was not a very polite response.” The weaver giggled and shook her head. “Please, there's no need to act so stiff around me. I'm just a simple adventurer.”  
Nodding, the Elezen-girl watched tacit the repair for a few seconds, before she asked: “You made this beautiful dress by yourself?” “Sure I did. And my nightgown was also sewn by me. Sewing is after all my favorite activity as a crafter. Nothing makes me more fun than this.”  
“I wish...” ,the girl murmured, “...Mama could have met you. I bet you would have become friends. She loved sewing, too. And she always dreamed of visiting Ul'dah one day in order to learn from the masters who live there... If just... If just that dragon wouldn't have killed her...”  
Cecilia looked up from the pincushion and gave the child an aghast gaze full of sorrow.  
Midgardsormr, on the other hand, looked down to the ground in shame. Usually, he didn't care for all the losses which mortals had to endure... It was their own fault. Their punishment. But this...? This here was a young girl. A child. She needed a mother in her life, yet.  
By what right could his kind take a child's mother away?  
“Your mom was surely a talented weaver. This cheap fabric doesn't fall apart despite all the holes.” Admiration flowed through the maidens words, as she tried to distract the girl. The later giggled with an embarrassed expression and smiled brightly; forgotten was the entire suffering at once. What remained was the joy about the rescue of her dearest piece of cloth.  
Grinding his fangs in wrath, Midgardsormr looked at Cecilia. Only because of her, he waltzed through these halls like a toy – enduring the fact over and over, that men forgot things so easily. Wouldn't dragons attack them constantly, they would forget the tragic memories completely and leave his kind entirely alone with the never-ending pain.  
So, how could the Raen dare to make the agony of this Coerthan child disappear...?

He watched the repair with disdain; sitting down on the cold floor.  
Motionless, he waited without ever blinking for the sake of his vulnerable eyes. This body here shouldn't stare that much, since the irises were yet not fully developed, but he didn't care for this. He was too angry. Too indignant. Men never stopped outraging him inwardly.  
As she had suggested before, the weaver showed the Elezen-child several sewing-techniques after the reconstruction of the pullover was done. The girl demonstrated eagerness at first – which led to some errors; resulting in many small knots of the yarn. But then, it was even to an ancient dragon like him visible: She had inherited her mother's talent.  
Patiently, Midgardsormr beheld the two mortals until they were finished.  
It was not until the child wanted to leave the room, that he started moving again. Her eyes found naturally right away the 'strange toy' which stood in the door-frame. And as 'it' resembled dragons, the girl froze because of her fear. The 'puppet', on the other hand, wasn't hovering or walking, wherefore the child's anxiety was an unnecessary reaction.  
“Just leave the room. There's no need to be afraid as long as you don't try to caress him.”  
Although he found these words offending, Cecilia encouraged through them the girl to keep going. With a confused look in the blue eyes, the small Elezen passed Midgardsormr – keeping just in case an obvious distance to him. Also, she held her dearest piece of cloth tightly against her chest, as if she feared he would burn the pullover in every second. Or would even savage herself.  
Hmpf, he was angry, but no idiot who attacked helpless children.  
She was insulting the dignity of a higher creature without even knowing it.  
Cecilia, however, recognized the humiliation very well. He sensed this in her look, when he finally arose from the floor and flew unhasty to her seat, where she still packed her materials. “Don't sulk. She's a traumatized girl who is deeply afraid of dragons. And you don't look like a friendly giant who doesn't eat kids when he's bored. In fact, you are in this shape even more unsympathetic.”  
Hissing, he frowned and felt the stinging glow of his red eyes emerging.  
“Thou art not lightening my mood in any regard. Perhaps it was wrong to search for thee.”  
The maiden lifted her brows and looked directly at him. “You were wondering, why I had left you together with Erik alone in the kitchen?” Midgardsormr didn't respond to her brazen question. Instead, he tried to suppress the anger which boiled within his core. He was very mad at her for making him feel guilt and shame considering the actions of his own kind. But... The enragement about himself exceeded this emotion with an unspeakable strength.  
He had become too addicted to her...  
Closing his eyes, he listened to her helpless chuckle: “Hehe, what a lucky blockhead I must be in your demanding opinion. That you deign to look after me... Especially, when you are wrathful. ... Midgard, tell me the reason for your frightening face. Why are you so sullen?”  
He heard her movement, but when his lids swung open, it was already too late to avoid the contact. Cecilias right hand landed on his head; caressing his forehead and ridiculous long ears. He growled, but actually it was not because of his panic considering the moment when mortals touched him. Rather, he wanted to remind himself of the necessary distrust for humankind.  
Shifting; shivering under her self-confident fingers, which revealed how less she voluntary cared about the danger to provoke him, Midgardsormr was caught in his wrath and bewilderment, simultaneously. “Thou hast distracted this child from her suffering...” he whispered partly fraught; muscles tensing under his inner pressure. She should stop to touch him as if it was natural...  
“I would do this for everybody who suffers because of the war. I just don't have the power to do it. Yet, this doesn't mean I can't try my best. Same goes for ending the war. Nothing would be better than erasing the source for all the pain. So, it's my biggest wish to be one day able to stop the battle. For your very own sake, too.” she said forthright.  
He widened his eyes: “M-my sake...?”  
“Yes. Since it must be cruel to have been unable to do anything since fifteen years. Death means for you not the same thing like for us mortals. For you, it was no end, but an endless chain. Additional, whatever you may remember what I do not know about the past... It seems to hunt you every time while I am only touching you. As if... you fight something that was once dear to you.”  
This moment... The way she uttered this soft 'you' once again...  
Her pity and empathy sent a shiver down his spine. Not a disturbing one, surprisingly. Rather... pleasant like water ran down a dry throat. A burden inside of him seemed to lose its weight a little, when her comprehension for his situation reached him.  
His face heated as she caressed his head gently. It wasn't anger which let his skin burn. Only shame. How could a mortal see so much, when he tried his best to ignore the magnetic pull he felt...? Also, if this maiden could understand him without his support for this, why did the other mortals not see, which misconducts and -conceptions ruled in Ishgard...?  
'Why must you be a human being...? Why are you no dragon...?' ,he thought in informal manner – sadness filled his head entirely, 'I would be proud to call you a descendant. To call you a daughter. Why is Hydaelyn ill-humored enough to send of all things you as the one who calls out for me? Who wakes me from my slumber and seems to need me...? I can't help you to fulfill your wish... Because of all the lies in Ishgard, I do not know how to assist you...'  
Her hand slipped slowly away from his head.  
It was reluctant – as reluctant as he let her end the touch.  
Something had changed. The physical contact triggered by her will wasn't the same threat anymore, which he was used since one-thousand years. That he had experienced until now in this disguise. Lids lowered in befuddlement, he didn't know, if he should stop Cecilia and place her hand back where it had been just a few seconds ago.  
But his intellect and instincts prevailed once more over his sentiments.  
Midgardsormr couldn't trust her blindly. Not now. Not so soon.  
She had yet not proven, that she deserved his faith.

Cocking his head slightly in perplexity, the dragon sat down on a bench.  
The Warriors of Light were all excited in this moment – clapping and jubilating.  
Of course he understood, why Erik's comprehensive dinner enthused the adventurers, but they were not yet eating the dishes; only waiting for him to hand them out. So, the optic alone shouldn't be enough reason for them to flip out. Although he couldn't contradict the delicious smell...  
When a plate lay right before Cecilia on the table, the odor of the fish alone made his mouth water. Condiments which he had prior to this never tasted, so that he saw them today for the first time, allured him in a derisive way. Midgardsormr was once more assured of his wish to eat a few bites. He didn't know, if he should be glad or ashamed about this...  
The maiden next to him chuckled lowly.  
“I will share my dish with you, don't worry.” she murmured gently and took her silverware.  
While she cut the steaming fish open, he sighed bashful. “Thou hast no idea, how mortifying it is, when an ancient dragon is contingent on a mortal creature. Especially, after my kind has sworn to... No, never mind. We must not ruin the dinner with such a talk...” the Methuselah whispered muted. Cecilia blew air on a small morsel, which she had pierced with her fork, and handed it over to him. When he opened fainthearted his muzzle, she said: “I know, what you mean. Actually, you should not waste your time with us and kill instead every living mortal in these walls. That is, what your... moral-concept – or however you may call this ideal – tells you, doesn't it...”  
He ate shyly the flesh she had given him. It tasted wonderfully.  
But the insight she had when it came to his thoughts made him melancholy.  
At the first sight, this maiden seemed to be naive and young. The oddest creature he had ever seen. Yet, his judgment of her personality had probably been too early. There was indeed more about her. He was just not able to appoint it. Neither to comprehend it, to be honest...  
While he chewed well-behaved every bite she gave him, he wondered, why she could enrage him since the very first moment in horrible extents, although he enjoyed her near unmistakably. Nobody – not his own children, descendants and especially not mortals – meant such a contradiction to him. Starting with her appearance, she allured him with the same poignancy like he found her alarming. And her personality was not any different. It unsettled AND attracted him, too.  
But this counted only for her... All the other Au Ra, who he had seen meanwhile... No matter, if men or women... They all had not even a similar impact on him. They were just mortals – like the Hyur, Miqo'te and every other little creature in Eorzea. Not even their smell resembled hers.  
'Who are you...?' ,he thought abstractedly while he watched her eating, 'Why do you appease me, while I can't help but feel simultaneously disgruntled...? And this magnetic pull... What is that...?'  
The gruff voice of the Warrior's leader woke him from his trance: “Has everybody still some space within their stomachs left for eating a dessert? It's nothing special, but I made a chocolate-pudding, since I haven't cooked anything proper in the last time. Let's call it... an acceptable completion.”  
Alphinaud and Tataru, who had acted contained until now, looked at each other with sparkling eyes and came forward as the first persons who wanted some pudding. Erik grinned, before he handed small bowls with aforesaid dessert on to the last remaining members of the Scions. “I should have anticipated the obvious.” ,the Hyur said in a good temper, “You two have after all a sweet tooth.” “Well, who could resist the chefs magnificent skills?” Tataru answered smiling.  
Furring his brows, Midgardsormr noticed, that the Midlander became unusual communicative whenever the topic of his dishes emerged. Perhaps, that man had truly taken the wrong path when he decided to become an adventurer. He might succeed in this career; especially because of Hydaelyn's gift – the Echo – and do a good job as a leader... Nevertheless, he didn't look happy. Unlike Cecilia, who seemed to be born for this life.  
If Erik could change the past, he probably wouldn't pick up the battle-axe.  
The archmage got herself also a bowl of pudding. Sniffing, the dragon couldn't recall, that he had ever tried such a sweet in his life. Moreover, he would perhaps not like it, since this slimy thing here was a man-made, unnatural mishmash of... Well, he had not really an idea, what chocolate was. Coming to the realization, that he was uninspired in consideration of the ingredients, the dragon folded his short arms and eyeballed the dessert absent-minded.  
The Au Ra fell silent, although she was currently enjoying a conversation with Tammy and Tataru, and gazed at him from the corners of her eyes. “You can try it, if you want.” she finally whispered – holding her spoon unhurried right in front of his face. He withdrew a little from the silverware, while his eyes examined the brown, wobbling dish with an askance expression.  
Then, he leaned careful forward. Opened his muzzle irresolute, when she met him half way. Midgardsormr let the substance glide onto his tongue; tasting it with skepticism. He was surprised, when the unnatural sweet flavor appealed to him. Lowering his lids, he felt odd, when the maiden pushed meanwhile gently a leftover from his lips away. Her touch and this unperturbed smile nettled once more his preposterous addiction; heating his face drastic.  
He felt desperately helpless in this whole situation.  
She offered him another bite – he couldn't resist, although his stomach was full.  
When the pudding went once more slowly down his throat, her fingers slipped under his chin as if she feared, that she had blotted him unintentional. Now, her smile was shyly, but he found the view as alluring as before. Actually, he had no idea, whereabouts with himself... His consciousness wasn't in the condition for dealing with this... whatever it might be.  
But his emotions rejoiced in this instant as if they had never been alive until now.   
They got out of control, when Cecilia ran two fingers once more over his lips.  
Her attention felt so... GOOD. So redemptive...

“Listen, my friends! I have wonderful news for you!”  
The booming voice of this Fortemps-son, Haurchefant, destroyed the weird moment.  
With a wide smile, the Elezen stepped into the room plus looked satisfied at the adventurers as well as Alphinaud and Tataru. “May I ask, what you want to insinuate?” the white-haired boy asked, while the others gazed puzzled at the knight. Being a self-proclaimed politician, the teenager was despite his failure as the Crystal Brave's commandant still seeking to fulfill his role of a leader. Something, which would surely end one day in a life-crisis...  
Haurchefant smirked, while he made an elegant bow. “It is my greatest pleasure...” ,he began while returning to his usual posture, “...to inform you, that you all are invited to see our holy city Ishgard with your very own eyes. My father, Count Edmont Fortemps, decided to act as your guarantor, wherefore you all live from now on under the protection of house Fortemps. In other words, you are now his guests and allowed to enter Ishgard whenever you want.”  
The mortals looked at each other – entirely speechless. Eyes widened in verve.  
Midgardsormr, meanwhile, was bewildered by this novelty. Because it sounded surreal...  
When the people of Ishgard had decided to close their gates – to keep strangers and outsiders at bay – especially persons from other countries had never again seen the inside of these 'holy' city-walls. Adventurers, first of all, were never welcomed and rather treated like dirt; as much as he had realized because of the information he had heard from Cecilia and everybody else.  
The Fortemps-knight continued smiling: “Settle down in our house and let yourself time to think about your next steps. There's no need for rushing to whitewash your reputation. Here in Coerthas, you all have proven to be our trustworthy heroes. Whatever Ul'dah's Syndicate may claim, we know that you are unblamable. And it is an honor for us to welcome you in Ishgard.”  
“Forsooth, these are truly good news. We accept gladly your hospitality.” the boy answered politely, while the others nodded happily. Only Erik demonstrated minimal elation. “Sounds nice, I think... Although I wonder, what your chiefs will say about it.” “Don't be skeptical. Your long-lasting visit will be no problem. Sir Aymeric was glad to hear, that you sought shelter in Camp Dragonhead. Also, the Pope himself – Archbishop Thordan VII – indicated interest into your safety. You have supported all four royal houses of Ishgard, when you traveled for the last time through Coerthas – there's no reason to deny you protection.” the enthusiastic knight explained.  
Erik folded his arms, reflected a few seconds on Haurchefants words, and nodded finally. “Well, then we should pick up our stuff, hm... I hope, you guys didn't make yourselves too comfortable in the meantime. We shouldn't let the Count wait. Don't want him to change his mind...” the Hyur grumbled while his right hand ran aimlessly through his hair.  
Cecilia and Tammy, who hadn't given the building a personal touch, decided to wash the dishes, while the other mortals got their belongings. The women's doing was no special activity to look at, wherefore the dragon decided soon to follow Erik through the corridors. Something about him was quite unusual, although identifying this seemed to be impossible... Thus, it was better to make sure, that nothing negative or rather threatening would emerge.  
The cook had spread several ingredients in different corners; in order to make sure that they all would be stored correctly. An odd technique, that had been of course developed by a human mind... Despite his obvious irritation about the 'playthings' company, the Hyur didn't mind his 'stalker' while he picked the vegetables, small bottles and spices up. He even payed barely attention to 'it'. However, when Erik had obtained everything that belonged to him, he studied Midgardsormr.  
That human mimed imperturbation, but the dragon instantly knew it was faked.  
“You're a funny puppet. I would say, your creator was a mastermind.” the Warrior's leader said. Stretching his arms, he added muted: “Be a good minion and stay by Ceci's side, will you? I doubt, that I can always be in her near... She's not like our friends. And luckily not like me...”  
Midgardsormr stared confused at the strange man. He didn't grasp, what this mortal wanted to say... Why wasn't the maiden like the other adventurers? Or the other Warriors of Light? And what did Erik mean with that reference to himself...?  
“She's important, if you ask me. Meant to do something about or rather against that dragon-war.” ,the Hyur uttered, “She's a calculation which I couldn't foresee thanks to the last time's happenings when I experienced Ishgards tragedy. She's like a completely new chance. That's why I agreed to her inspection of those airship-leftovers in Mor Dhona. Originally, it should have been me.”  
The dragon widened his eyes while he focused on the brunette Hyur.  
Did he... know it...? Did this mortal know, who the 'puppet' was in truth...?  
Eriks steel-blue irises had fixated Midgardsormr in an unpleasant way. They expected something, which the dragon couldn't name. “This time, we must stop the catastrophe in the north. No matter, what might happen to us. Don't leave her side ever again, when we reach Ishgard. She's a gift which must be protected whenever her strength doesn't suffice. Because she is our key to fight the disaster. A key that we didn't have the last time when the catastrophe was close.”  
Midgardsormr vellicated his ridiculous large ears and glared at the mortal being.  
'He knows something, which I am not aware of... Like this frustrating bird. But other than Edgar, Mister Uncommunicative has great interest into nettling me with his knowledge. And yet... I can see why he refuses to reveal his true, given name... Hydaelyn, thou hast sent a man from another world. Although I'm not entitled to question thee, I wonder if this action was the right decision.'  
The serious expression of the Hyur extenuated while he observed Midgardsormrs sullen gaze. Grinning keenly, he stated: “You have no idea, what I'm talking about, hm?” Then, Erik chuckled – didn't wait for a possible answer. He shrugged his shoulders, also, before he turned around.  
Dumbfounded through the mans behavior, the dragon wanted to spat a fire-salvo at his head. Another mumbling stopped him from doing so, however: “Oh well, it's not like you're the first guy who can't recall anything. You see, that's why I'm so fond of Ceci. She's indeed new here.”  
Perplexed via this nonsensical information, the dragon blinked a few times.  
After this, he followed Erik finally. He flew next to the cooks face – watching him.  
Once more, the man grinned a bit and studied Midgardsormr in return. From the corners of his eyes, Erik gave him such a bold look, that burning his face down sounded like a good idea for the dragon. Guzzling the brunette would also probably work, but ruining one's stomach wasn't necessary...  
“You can sense it, too, am I right? That my 'little sister' has something about her which nobody else in Eorzea possesses. Not even Minfilia owns this kind of a peculiarity.” the Hyur muttered quietly. Constricting his lids in huff, the Methuselah looked away. Erik sighed following and stated: “Yeah, that's how I thought you would react. The topic – or rather Cecilias considerable extraordinariness jangles your antique nerves. … At least you haven't changed your personality.”  
Frowning, the dragon wondered, why Erik was suddenly so talkative...  
And why it was even more bothersome than the odd maiden...

The Hyur spoke nothing else to the dragon.  
Actually, in all likelihood he wanted to keep this monologue a secret.  
At least that was Midgardsormrs impression, while they passed a few knights who patroled through the building. Because those men had appeared a few seconds after Eriks last conclusion. And when they were out of reach, the Midlander didn't open his mouth again. Instead, he switched classes, whereby his corpus was again 'appareled' with that hideous armor of a Marauder alias Warrior.  
Erik left the building and went over the courtyard to another construction, where the sentinels allowed him to enter without hesitation. Midgardsormr hovered the whole time next to Eriks face, because he still expected the guards to distrust his disguise. Hence, he was avowedly a bit relieved, when his eyes detected in the hall just in front of him the improperly dressed maiden.  
She stood next to a wooden writing-desk; talking with that Fortemps-son.  
Obviously they were enjoying a blitheful conversation, because both looked entirely happy.  
Yawning, the Hyur stopped walking and folded his arms – vanished was the hurry from before. Midgardsormr couldn't help but glare at him. Although the man did have a point here... It didn't look like anybody else of the Warriors of Light would be ready, since even Tammy hadn't been present despite her claim to have no possessions scattered.  
Thinking about her... The dragon could hear the Miqo'tes voice now.   
Outside of the building, she was blabbering full-throated with the Paladin-Roegadyn. A chat so incidental and plain, that their discussion sounded like noise to his ears. Also, hardly recognizable, there were the voices of the Blackmage-Elezen plus the Whitemage-Lalafell in the background.  
“Ah, finally they are ready. Thought we would grow roots meanwhile.” Erik said dozily.  
The Raen had noticed her leader's presence, but only now she reacted to him: “I'll just say goodbye to Haurchefant, if this is okay for you.” Waving shiftless with his right hand, the Hyur responded: “Yeah, yeah, do this. I teach meanwhile our allies some manners. Their sense of time is awful...”  
Snorting, Midgardsormr thought repining: 'Your manners are certainly worse.'  
Not following Erik out of the hall, the dragon watched instead unemotional, how the Elezen anticipated the maiden up-front. Haurchefant looked with loving eyes at Cecilia, when he said: “Until tomorrow, my heroine. I promise to visit you in Ishgard as soon as my duties allow it.”  
Obviously embarrassed, the Au Ra blushed and bit into her lips. Nodded smiling.  
The dragon couldn't help but averting his eyes in this moment.  
Here it emerged again... His rage. Albeit it was rather jealousy of the knight, this time.  
Speaking sweetish words to a maiden was surely something which all females liked – no matter, which species might be their very own. But that an Elezen had to be Cecilias charmer, while already this aristocratic-looking teenager must be her personal favorite, didn't help Midgardsormr with this strange sentiments he owned. Also, he didn't grasp, why male Elezen seemed to appeal to Cecilia. After all he hadn't forgotten, what he had heard in Ul'dah...   
The Azure Dragoon was also a friend of hers. And as much as Midgardsormr had noticed through mortal's palaver, then this man was also an Elezen. Hmpf... Thinking about it, he remembered now Alphinauds phrase from the celebration... 'A Dragoon with a sharp tongue.' Tss, surely his weapon was sharper than any words he could pronounce.  
Midgardsormr quivered, when an index-finger tipped against him.  
He looked up to the maidens face; softening his stiff glance when his eyes found her tender smile. “I'm glad when you try to get along with Erik. You always seem to despise him.” she expounded. Closing his lids, he let her hand glide over his left ear. “Thy leader is a mannerless person. I was... only surprised to see, that he owns nevertheless amenities. So I followed him somewhat.”  
Midgardsormr took a seat on her shoulder; relishing the feeling of her warm skin.  
He didn't want to think too much about the aforesaid Hyur.  
On the other hand, there was something else dwelling in his mind, which was baleful.  
While the Warriors saddled their Chcobos, he didn't vocalize it. He even concealed his thoughts, when the ride began and the gate to the Steps of Faith came into sight. Focusing on Alphinaud and Tataru, who sat helpless like potato-bags on the large birds of the Paladin-Roegadyn as well as Blackmage-Elezen, he tried to distract himself from that queasy feeling which had nothing to do with the beclouding, dark-blue evening sky.  
But when the adventurers and last members of the Scions dismounted in front of the construction, he couldn't oppress it anymore. Leaning his head slightly against Cecilias right ear, he whispered: “Thou thinkest, to find yonder salvation? Bury this hope. Thou will find nothing else but deception, desperation and death.” He answered her gaze, when he felt it – her odd-colored eyes showed imperturbable resolution; his own emphasized pure disillusionment.  
“We will go.” ,she said after a few seconds, “There's no other place left for us. And even, if I'm just an ordinary adventurer... I will try to end the war. It's the wish of our hearts – mortals and dragons. We all yearn for peace. Perhaps we might share not exactly the same hopes for the war's outcome... But if there's a way left to coexist with each other... I want to make it happen.”  
Midgardsormr widened his eyes. She was deadly serious. Like a true dragon would be.  
Sighing, he closed tired the lids. “Then continue. I'll stay by thy side.”


	6. Chapter 6

# Chapter Six

His eyes wandered aimless over the buildings.  
Everything just looked like it had been copied from his memory.  
Only the grave damages within the stonewalls – caused by Vishap's fierce attack – reminded him, that it was no peaceful night of those times when dragons and men got along. Also, the snowflakes which fell soundless from the darkened sky emphasized the melancholic mood he felt deep down in his petrified heart. It was the same with the unfortunate mortals, as it seemed.  
People without a royal title resided in the destitute part of the city – suffering under every influence; cold as well as signs of the war. It might not look at first like a regular slum, but still the Foundation wasn't blessed. Yet, not all of the citizens sought shelter despite this current clock-adjustment.  
Although dusk was gone since a while, several ordinary humans walked through the streets as if their life depended on doing so. In their dull eyes lay disdain for the present knights who observed the city. But not only for them. Being aware of the royal guests, the poor eyeballed the strangers who stood now undecided in the city's entrance with great distrust. Probably it didn't even matter, that they were adventurers. Every person who enjoyed a higher rank than them would surely earn their anger. Not, that Midgardsormr cared for the ordinary population... Their fortune was the fault of their ancestors. The sin to disavow their lineages had been a momentous error.  
Snorting, he leaned himself against the maiden's neck.  
Her warmth helped him not to lose too much temperature in the icy atmosphere.  
She turned her head into his direction – wanting to ask him something; he was convinced of that. However, Cecilia couldn't utter her thoughts, as a servant of the royal house Fortemps appeared just in front of her and her comrades. “Pardon my tardiness, ladies and gentlemen. I did surely not want to retard your arrival at my master's mansion.” the Hyur stated conscience-stricken. “May I ask, why you look so pale? Did something happen?” Alphinaud wanted to know with a concerned mien. Shaking his head slightly, the servant replied sheepish: “The young employee who serves currently under my master's second son needed an advice of mine... I had not payed attention to the clock when I helped him, wherefore I was now in a hurry to meet you in time...”  
Two citizens crossed the group in that moment – glancing at the adventurers and two scions with constricted lids plus furrowed brows. Leeriness lay in their faces while they passed in a noticeable accelerated manner; pride flowed through their motions in spite of their ordinary status as menials. It was clear, how less this pair thought about the strangers.  
The eight men froze in their places under this sternly behavior. Erik's jaw was obviously clenched as he stared without blinking into space, while the rest of the Warriors of Light gazed with depressive expressions at the ground. Alphinaud and Tataru were no exception in this odd activity, albeit they resembled rather children than adults next to the hard-boiled fighters.  
Tammy was the first one to raise her head again. The Bard-Miqo'te looked into the direction where the citizens had vanished out of sight and mumbled confused: “Why do these people here look at us as if we were criminals? Haven't they heard the news? It's because of us adventurers that Ishgard does still stand. How can they distrust us?” Nodding, the others looked up and let their eyes roam without a goal through the oppressive darkness.  
Midgardsormr would have expected to hear words from the leader in order to scatter these worries, but it wasn't him who answered. “Do not take offense by their doubts.” ,the Blackmage-Elezen uttered calmly, “When we entered Central Coerthas for the first time, it was just the same situation. Although we tried our best to convince them of our benevolence, many people couldn't trust us. They even assumed, that Cid's machine for distilled water would only be an attempt to poison them. But when we had proven our good intents, they welcomed us with open arms. So, I suggest we have once more patience with the Coerthan inhabitants and simply help them wherever we can.”  
“Carlos is right. When we make us once more useful, it's just a matter of time until these blockheads realize how wrong their idea of us adventurers is. Therefore, we shouldn't waste our time anymore with standing around in the cold. I don't want to let Count Fortemps wait forever for his guests... That would make a bad impression.” the Warriors leader had the final say.  
“Then, would you follow me please to my master's manor?” the Hyur-servant asked politely and bowed to the group; having recovered from the unplanned sprint before as his paleness disappeared. “Of c-course we will!” Tataru answered quickly, while her tiny body quivered as if it would soon fall apart in the stinging air. The escort kept unsuccessful a chuckle down, for which he apologized: “Pardon my amusement. Furthermore, please excuse the harsh opinion of Ishgard's nation. We will certainly get used to the admission of foreigners if you allow us to adjust to it.” “I hope you will... Not interested into superfluous squabble...” Erik chuntered unmotivated.

The mortals started moving – all but one.  
Cecilia stood impassive in the city's entrance. Closing her eyes only in order to open them again; without another motion of her lids following as she watched unresponsive the nightlife around her. She seemed to be lost in this cold city. Just like he was. Midgardsormr didn't know, why she acted almost apathetic, but he was drenched too much in his own agony, as if he could comprehend a girl who was so painful young compared to himself. He had suffered too much under the city's people, wherefore the maiden appeared to him like a mystery that didn't belong to this place.  
Although Au Ra were naturally aliens in Eorzea, this exemplar here was that even more... He would rather picture Cecilia in a pretty forest or a meadow than the harsh Coerthas... Her body was fragile like a butterfly and her heart too soft for the war which loomed over this country...  
She walked slowly to an edge where originally stairs had been. Boards replaced the missing steps that had turned into ashes, so that the Foundation seemed to be even poorer now. At the foot of aforesaid replacement, three children played in the snow. They didn't recognize the stranger, wherefore they enjoyed themselves unperturbed; throwing balls made of the icy mass at each other. Because of their age, they were allowed to ignore at least occasionally the war...  
When he abruptly heard her whispering something so faint, that he couldn't understand it, Midgardsormr looked confused at the girl.  
Her expression had changed. The odd-colored eyes were suddenly filled with determination. Probably caused by that protective-instinct of hers, because he had realized her weakness for young as well as helpless creatures... He wondered, why she felt to be called to such an arduous role. Miming somebody's guardian without equivalent didn't match a young woman at all.  
She turned away from the innocent scene and looked up to the Pillars.  
Every move she made while her friends went ahead looked so diverse in view of her usual conduct. The archmage was yet graceful, but in a manner which he could only describe with one word: Ancient. Like his own race was. She seemed to experience time in a completely different way, while an agony lay in her moves which the Methuselah could only recognize as the one of another dragon. The worst about it was, that he couldn't grasp the cause for that.  
'You are not old. But simultaneous, you entirely are it. Who might you be in truth...?'  
He wanted to tap cautious on her neck in order to get her attention, but he felt not like it would be his right to do. Her irises had become sad as she gazed at the Pillars. A trait, that he shared at once, because his memories caught him right now. How much peace and joy they had shared in the past... Mortals and dragons had truly been friends... At least Midgardsormr had thought so...  
He wanted to watch this maiden here. Albeit he found it hard to call any mortal a friend, he was somehow honored how less she cared for his status as the first dragon to ever exist in this world. How honestly she treated him like one of her companions – as if he would be just a humane being. He might not believe into a peaceful outcome of the endless war, but he wanted to share her hopes and wishes for a new beginning without pain or loss. He wanted to believe into true amity, too. Whether his children would share this train of thoughts or not didn't play a part.  
Finally, Cecilia made a confident step into the direction of the Pillars.

“Cec.”  
A male voice right behind her stopped the maiden's next movement in an instant.  
While she turned around with a perplexed expression, Midgardsormr eyeballed already the stranger. It was an Elezen – a knight. Armored in deep-black metal which possessed golden details, the man wore also a helmet that denied a clear look at his face. But small as Cecilia still was compared to these long-eared personalities, the dragon on her shoulder had an excellent view at the mien under aforesaid protective-clothing. Although he wished to not have that, on second thought.  
The face looked very humorless, whereas pale eyes in the color of bright steel with a blue hint studied both the archmage as well as the 'puppet' in her company. Not to mention, that the man owned a lance, it seemed like he wouldn't mind rupturing the girl with his bare hands. Definitely, this Elezen was a Dragoon – and there was no doubt about his duty to slay dragons, when he was already because of the sight of a single 'doll' in the condition of cold fury.  
For a moment, Cecilia looked at the man without doing anything. Then, she raised her brows and asked parenthetically: “Why are you outside around that late daytime? Shouldn't you take a break from felling Ishgard's sworn enemies and rather go to sleep for recovering from the physical strain? I assumed that you can take care of yourself very well, Estinien.”  
Midgardsormr widened his eyes in shock when his ears noticed the last word.  
Estinien...? The Azure Dragoon...? That was the man of the current mortal generation who was successfully killing more dragons than all the other inhabitants of Coerthas together...? The mortal, who was said to use Nidhogg's eye in order to increase his own force? Or rather: The one mortal whose good intentions considering Ishgard had led him to purloin it, so that the great wyrm might focus at him instead of the city for now? Midgardsormr couldn't deny, that his body was partly filled with blustering rage as well as sincere respect, likewise.  
Frowning, the Elezen replied: “The correct question is: What are YOU doing here in the Holy City? Who was so brainless to permit a dragon-sympathizer like you entry? Do you plan to sabotage us with your refusal of slaying pangolins? We can't utilize softies like you in our war – are you sure that you don't want to hold hands with the heretics instead?”  
The dragon looked irritated at the maiden, but she only grinned faithful.  
Watching her reaction just like Midgardsormr, a candid smile flitted suddenly over these thin lips: “It's good to see you safe and sound here. When the rumors about the scion's denunciation came up in Central Coerthas, I was worried that the cutthroats, cheapskates and intriguers of Ul'dah might ruin my chance to ever taunt you again. I don't know, what I would have done if they had dared to kill the only mollycoddle who I will ever acknowledge of being a skilled warrior.”  
Cecilias eyes glistered, while she responded: “C'mon, you wouldn't move a single finger just for avenging a person who is not even from Ishgard's bloodline.” Estinien mirrored her elfish grin and leaned a bit down to match her eye-height. “You could never tell that for sure.” he susurrated lowly – emitting a vibe of danger which Midgardsormr found alarming. She seemed to recognize it, too, but her widened eyes made quickly room for a gentle smile. “What a prankster you are.” she said and shook her head with closed eyes. “Who knows.” the Azure Dragoon chuckled halfhearted, before he – in the moment she opened her lids again – bowed minimal to her in a mocking way.  
The girl shrugged as she turned around; looking up to the Pillars as the snow fell stronger down. Estinien tilted his head to the left side and stated: “Let me escort you to the Fortemps mansion. Presupposed, that you don't want any muggers to attack you.” “Hm, your company would be nice, therefore I wouldn't mind an overseer.” she said pleased while her feet started moving.  
The environment changed quickly as they entered the city's rich and royal part.  
Rags or rather workwear became replaced by gowns as well as coats, while the gazes filled with bitterness of the poor made room for glances full of icy pride of the blue-bloods. Both mortals were obviously not comfortable with this society, as they quickened their steps whenever they passed well-dressed persons. And for an unknown reason, Estinien was despite his status as Azure Knight not popular in this social class, since he earned more unfriendly gazes than Cecilia.  
“How is Erik doing these days? And is he aware, which kind of place Ishgard is? People like us don't belong with our sharp tongues into the upper part of the Holy City.” the Elezen assessed. Humming smiling, the girl answered: “We don't plan to stay in isolated company with the Fortemps. After all, we are who we are. Not only adventurers, but people who have sworn to protect Eorzea. There's no need to spend only time with Ishgard's royals.” “I would be confused if you had claimed anything else than that.” ,a tiny smile flickered over Estiniens mouth while he looked at her, “Eventual, you Warriors of Light are a welcome company and diversion to Coerthas.”  
She gave him a soft grin, which the Azure Dragoon returned obviously reluctant.

They reached the manor after a few minutes.  
Standing patient next to the building, the Warriors of Light as well as the two scions had waited for Cecilia to catch up with them. Since no wonderment or worry lay on their faces, it seemed like it was really common for her to fall behind. On the other hand, she was always quick with searching for personal quests – like the weaving-help which she had offered before to this little Elezen-girl in Camp Dragonhead. Or her unsolicited fishing for supporting the dinner.  
When she and Estinien neared the group, Erik wrinkled his nose and said: “Look who accompanies my little sister. The Coerthan loudmouth in person. I wasn't expecting to see you today.” The Elezen shrugged before he replied unimpressed: “Neither did I count on meeting the Hyur-churl in Ishgard. I guess the administration lost their heads when they judged your trustworthiness.”  
The rude men stared motionless at each other – it was as if the air would be under electricity. Staying at close range next to them, one could feel how deadly sparks emitted from both sides. Because of this, there was definitely no doubt, that these persons were two birds of a kind... Willful. Pigheaded, probably. If they started fighting now, it would surely be no surprise.  
Suddenly, a peaceful grin spread simultaneously over both faces.  
They moved without a warning, so that their right hands crashed loudly into each other. This action turned out to be nothing else but a harmless handshake, although they transformed it into some kind of arm-wrestling after a few seconds. It let them look like ambitious rivals.  
Alphinaud and Tataru seemed to be irritated by this abrasive greeting – and so was Midgardsormr, who realized once more, that he had forgotten humane ways. The Warriors of Light, in contrary, beheld the scene either lackadaisical or slightly contented. While Cecilia, Tammy and particularly the Paladin-Roegadyn enjoyed the view, the Blackmage-Elezen and Whitemage-Lalafell seemed almost bored by the small play of power.  
Ending their arm-wrestling as there was obviously no clear winner, Erik closed his lids for a second before he gave the Azure Knight a mischievous grin. “Tell... How come, that I haven't seen you for a longer while? I was missing you when we were protecting your beloved Holy City from that gigantic dragon-general. Thought you wouldn't ignore such a chance to slaughter your enemies. Seems I was wrong with that impression.” the Hyur stated – the slight amusement vanishing slowly from his face with every single word.  
Estinien cocked his head to the side and answered disinterested: “Looks like your concentration is a bad joke. I was present – right in front of the Steps of Faith. While you danced around with Vishap on the old bridge, I was busy with covering your backs in the meantime. Perhaps, I should better have taken a good seat in order to watch the scene – and grabbed some delicious snacks instead of supporting you people. That would have been less of a time-waste.”  
The Warrior's leader chuckled a little, while the other mortals showed regret on their faces through the unknown information. At least almost every human. The Blackmage-Elezen... Carlos narrowed his lids under the wide hat. Behind the high ruff, it was hard to tell his whole facial expression, but the eyes alone demonstrated deep frustration.  
“You should not make fun of an earnest situation like this one. The combat could have ended in a true catastrophe, after all. It may be relieving to hear, that you helped us in the background, but there was no sign of your presence. If you prefer to sulk because of our nescience, then do that in another place. We have no time for this irrelevance.” the magician stated.  
Estinien's head twitched for a moment to the right side, before he responded gruffly: “Ah, Mr. Polite can't once again allow a chance to pass by when it comes to teaching me otherwise... Not growing tired of this trait, huh? If all Gridanian people are like you, it's a wonder you guys get along.”  
Carlos looked down his nose at the Azure Dragoon: “Pardon me, but I – on the other hand – can not understand why you even enjoy such a good position in Ishgard's hierarchy. The royals are not fond of that excuse which you call 'manners', while your combat-skills would suffice in any possible role. You would rather fit into the place of an ordinary Dragoon than the 'holy' Azure Knight.”  
Both Elezen glared at each other, as if they considered to start an attack.  
It was the Warrior's leader, who interrupted them scoffing: “Stop that nonsense, you damned idiots. We all know, that you two could burn and jump every opponent you wish into the ground. But just because you are grand-cousins, there's no need for inciting until you really do that. … Honestly, STOP IT, bloody hell. The rest of us can knock you out in an instant, if you continue.”  
Midgardsormr stared without blinking at the two Elezen.  
Grand-cousins...? Their blood was related... even thought it was not under a direct interlinkage...? How could they act so unfriendly, then...? Did humans not fancy relatives...? The dragon found it partly confusing, how complicated men handled their lives.  
However, Erik's announcement had the right effect; the two men calmed down. Additional to this, the Azure Knight let a long yawn out, that emphasized the irenic mood despite a dismissive vibe within the action. While Carlos shook his head to this, Alphinaud asked courteous: “Did you have an exhausting day, Estinien?” Shrugging, aforesaid one mumbled: “Well, after Cec had noted that already before: I think I'll go to bed now. Don't see any reason to hold you folks up.”  
All but his grand-cousin saw him off, albeit Erik and Estinien ended in another arm-wrestling via their seemingly typical handshake. This rough habit was for both Midgardsormr as well as the boy still a bit disturbing, although Tataru had meanwhile adjusted to it. Moreover, Alphinaud seemed quite nervous, when it was his turn to say goodbye. He stuttered the polite words he had amassed in his naive young mind with such an obvious uptightness, that the Methuselah was sure even the boy realized his misstep all by himself.  
“You guys should keep an eye on the kid.” ,Estinien stated earnest after listening to the stutter, “With his happy-preppy attitude, he should really not walk alone to the Foundation. Don't want him to cause any trouble in Ishgard.” Alphinaud turned red like a beet under this indirect rebuke. Certainly, he admired the Azure Dragoon, so cynical words from his role-model must be something very unsettling for the teenager. Midgardsormr sensed for a moment real compassion for the boy. Yet, this didn't last long, as Cecilia placed comforting her hand on Alphinaud's shoulder.  
While Midgardsormr stared at her with a reproachful gaze, she was the last one who saw Estinien finally off: “Take care, dragon-slayer. I don't want to perceive any missing body-parts the next time I meet you again.” Her words were selected like a mockery, but the way she pronounced them showed clear sympathy. Also, the smile Cecilia bestowed upon the Azure Dragoon had a similar sweet vibe like the one she had reserved for Alphinaud. The Elezen seemed to be aware of this fact, because he bit into his lip as if he had trouble to keep an impolite response down.  
Probably their somehow-friendship was truly important to him... maugre his ultimate defeat against the sharp tongue he owned. “Teh, I rather hope you'll don't stumble into the next-best clever knight. With your dumb compassion, you end in the prison or even under the guillotine if you continue your usual behavior. Not to mention this silly doll you carry around.”  
Narrowing his glowing eyes, Midgardsormr stared at Estinien, while aforesaid one turned away from the group and walked unhurried down the street. He felt insulted by the Elezen's words... As if the father of dragon-kind wouldn't know, that it was risky for the girl to own a puppet in this place which resembled Ishgard's sworn enemies... Often enough he had the bad impression, that none of the Warriors of Light was aware of this. And howbeit Tataru as well as Alphinaud might now glance at him after Estinien's words, it was sure that both would not try to change Cecilias mind.  
“Let's go into the stately home.” Erik prompted – ignoring the Elezen's warning as well as all logic. He grabbed the hand of his 'sister', which Midgardsormr identified as a silent encouragement. Not, that the maiden looked worried in any way, but the Hyur knew her of course much longer, so that recognizing her mood was for him easier than for the old dragon. With the 'siblings' going ahead, the group entered the manor under complaisant gazes of a few servants.

It was enjoyable warm inside of the luxurious building.  
Nevertheless, he leaned against the maiden's neck and listened skeptical to her benefactor.  
Count Edmont Fortemps was on the first sight a polite nobleman, who was surrounded by a strict, almost severe atmosphere. He must be an old mortal, notwithstanding that his hair was not yet gray but black as soot. The way he welcomed the adventurers and the two scions was a dapper manner without the hidden nervousness Midgardsormr was used from Alphinaud. There was one blemish the dragon could find, but as he himself suffered partly under infirmity, he would not dare to impute inadequateness to the lord. For now, this man seemed to be an acceptable favorer.  
When the Count summoned his two legitimate sons, the dragon couldn't help but knitting his brows in view of the young men. While the mortals got adequately introduced to each other, he could see, what probably none of his 'allies' could grasp... The older son, Artoirel, was behind the mannerly, charming facade a stuck-up man who looked down on adventurers. And the younger one, Emmanellain, was rather a carefree child than a reliable adult, who would easily pass tasks on to page-boys and servants instead of carrying them out by himself.  
Considering the fact, that Haurchefant was an illegitimate progeny of the Count, Midgardsormr was negatively surprised, how well this 'mongrel' had grown up, while his half-brothers practically withered inwardly under the apparent affluence their family enjoyed. Looking from the corners of his eyes to the maiden, it seemed like she shared his antipathy, although it was not in the same intensive strength he felt. Her irises told him, that she found both men not delightful – something, which pleased him deeply, as her weakness for Elezen was driving him more than enough crazy. Whilst she fancied the cordial knight, however, it was of course unlikely to see her sympathizing with his reserved brethren.  
Actually, Cecilia didn't seem to be impressed by all the richness which surrounded her in this place. Since Erik as in ignorant being was someone Midgardsormr didn't expect to be easily impressed, the Au Ra resembled her other companions more than enough to express lively amazement. Yet, composure was all he could detect in her mien. Even Alphinaud as the descendant of a wealthy, benefited family acted partly flattered by the environment.  
When the Count kindly offered the group to move into his guestrooms, surprisingly the maiden was the first one to politely reject the recommendation. She explained, that she wanted to be housed in Ishgard's tavern like a normal adventurer, since she didn't see herself as a V.I.P. who would deserve any special treatment. Above all, she wanted to look for any possibilities to help the population – the children at the most – wherefore she couldn't spend much time in the manor. Erik agreed instantly on this undertaking, too, because he wanted to make himself useful in the Holy City. Furthermore, he assured the Count, that all Warriors shared this opinion.  
Alphinaud and Tataru assented to the leader's words when the lord asked them for their opinion. Midgardsormr wasn't sure, how a democrat and a secretary should have any use in Ishgard, but when they wanted to cling together with the adventurers, it was surely no bad plan. Tammy, Carlos and the other two appeared meanwhile to be relieved about the scion's decision; a clear sign, that they had anticipated a possible separation from both long-eared youngsters.  
As the group was now united, Alphinaud suavely asked the Count for borrowing a servant in order to go sightseeing, before they would reserve guestrooms in the tavern. Lord Edmont was amused by this plea, since he had already heard from Haurchefant how eager the scions and Warriors were. Therefore he assigned with joy one of his attendants to show them Ishgard.  
Anyhow, he warned Erik as the leader to be careful while walking through the lower city-parts. Beneficiaries of royalty were no welcome visitors for many citizens – and the fact, that they were above all strangers, didn't make it better. Snorting with his mannerless attitude, the Hyur answered with a wave of his hand, that nobody would dare to harm them, if the enviers were smart enough to avoid his axe. With a nervous laughter, Count Edmont stated, that he found it still hard to believe, how the gourmet who was commanded by his son could be such a rough combatant.  
Midgardsormr endorsed this appraisal, although he knew the brilliant cooking-skills of the leader. There was nothing else about Erik, which showed rudimental ANY dulcet streaks. At least not, when it came to the man himself. He was gruff; his behavior was it, too. If Cecilia wouldn't be here, the Hyur had probably nobody else who could replace the status she enjoyed in his eyes. His allies were not like siblings to him, although they had clearly some personally value. Erik might not act with the calculatio of a businessman, yet the dragon saw, that the warrior did barely anything which truthfully allowed other mortals to get emotionally close to him.  
It was surprising in the dragon's opinion, though, how this man who came from another world still tended to treat his companions like friends. Or rather, how he aimed to maintain some friendships. After they greeted the servant who was chosen by Count Fortemps to show them around, Erik was quick-witted enough to ask the Elezen for including several locations into the tour; like a library or the marketplace. And as he had become used to this group of mortals, Midgardsormr knew instantly, that the leader thought about his friends when he requested these spots. While Alphinaud, Carlos and the Whitemage-Lalafell loved reading, for example, Tammy and Tataru had a true fondness in matters of shopping food plus useful materials such as yarn.  
Above all, Erik encouraged Cecilia to switch classes – back to her usual Whitemage-outfit – so that the cold air outside of the building would not start to influence her health. Everybody might know, how resistant she was considering the temperature of her environs, yet they supported his request. She did them the favor, although it was clear she did it mostly for her dear 'brother'. Sighing, Midgardsormr recognized the differences between himself and the mortals once more. They listened to each other – much more, than to other creatures...  
He reflected still on the group of mortals, while the men left the mansion now. Comparing them all, the dragon realized, that the maiden he surveiled was quite independent. She did not stand out from those close to her with the charismatic nature she had gotten, as they were a bunch of unique beings, but it happened practically never, that the girl needed any help.  
She was a gatherer – she could mine, fish and lumber whatever she wanted; respectively needed. The young maiden was a crafter – creating basic-tools or clothes didn't look like a big deal for her. She might not carry cooking-utensils like Erik around, but if this would become necessary one day, surely she grabbed them before anybody had to suggest it.  
Midgardsormr wondered, if the tour through Ishgard contained anything at all, which she could make use of; like all her other friends here obviously did. But in the moment the servant mentioned the Astrologian-guild and how a Sharlayan-master wanted to teach lessons, the dragon suspected, that this might be something the maiden would enjoy. She called herself an archmage, after all... Learning another type of magic sounded just like the right activity for her. He glanced at her face, which revealed a hint of excitement to him. Ah yes, he had guessed correctly.  
With that, he left her shoulder and slipped under the seam of her robe. It was getting slowly colder, so he better clawed into a boot of hers and sought shelter under the pleasantly warm cloth she wore. Until the tour was over, he didn't plan to emerge soon again. His shivering corpus reminded him, that he was yet bound to a fragile baby-form...

The stench of alcohol reached him even under Cecilias robe.  
He would have loved to hold his nose, but his tiny 'hands' were not sufficient to keep his sensitive, stinging nostrils shut. So, the father of dragon-kind was forced to endure the 'wonderful' odor, while the adventurers and scions talked to the owner of the tavern. He tried to convince himself of being patient enough to wait another few minutes, until he could finally lay down and sleep for a while, but somehow his subconsciousness was smart enough to not fall for this lie.  
Several times, he held his breath, as the booze in the air slowly gave him a bit headache. This place was rather an ordinary bar than a guesthouse... To hear from the young owner's charismatic voice, that there were enough guestrooms for all members of the group, let him undergo at least a bit joy next to the frustration of being caught in this disgusting atmosphere.  
When the maiden entered after a seemingly eternity finally her guestroom,  
Midgardsormr jumped down from her boot in the second she closed the door behind her.  
Gasping for breath, he crawled out from the seam. It didn't took many seconds for him to realize, however, that staying under her clothes would have been the better choice. Wrinkling his nostrils, his eyes roamed displeased the dark, messy room which was only lighted by a small chimney.  
As if she could read his thoughts, Cecilia stated: “Don't worry, I'm just as discontent as you are. Tomorrow, the first thing I do is cleaning this chaos of empty bottles. The only positive thing about these things is the missing liquid...” Arms akimbo, the Au Ra eyeballed the glasses on the shabby, antique desk and under the bed with a sulking facial expression. “If the innkeeper wouldn't be a sympathetic man who's busy enough with caring for the emotionally condition of his clientele...” ,she mumbled partly ill-humored, “...I would complain now in an ill-favored way.”  
He shared her opinion, that at least the fetor of alcohol was no longer present.  
But he found it alarming, how the last words left her throat. They sounded vicious...  
Cecilia sighed low-spirited and walked over to the bed. “I miss the guestroom in Gridania.” she said – hitting a nerve with these words, as he had thought exactly the same. Nodding slightly, Midgardsormr took a seat in front of the warming chimney; his back turned to the maiden. He didn't feel like talking now... Concretely, he was not in the good shape for doing so. This corpus was tired – the icy atmosphere of Ishgard had weakened it too much...  
From the corners of his eyes, he watched wordless, how Cecilia sat down on the mattress and changed her clothes unhurried despite the depressive 'taste' this room had. For a moment, she was only wearing silky bright underwear; the blue terry-cloth-nightgown laying untouched next to her. Growing completely stiff because of that unexpected view, the dragon even stopped breathing until her rosy skin and shell-white scales vanished under the gown. Relieved, he let the air ran through his burning throat, while the maiden huddled unheeding under the blanket.  
He just wanted to convolve into a perfect circle, when she asked muted: “You don't want to share your sleeping-berth with me, correct...?” His hilarious big ears twitched, as the sadness in her voice had its alluring effect on him. If she would be a monster instead of a humane being, he was sure, that she couldn't be anything else but a Succubus... Wiping off the allurement from his mind, reluctant he responded to her question: “Thou art aware of my decision, already...”  
The maiden snorted a little, before she stated: “Yes, I am... I just hoped you would rethink it...” Shaking his head noticeable in order to emphasize his disfavor about her wish, the Methuselah closed his tired lids and lay down on the small carpet. “Isn't it cold there...? So alone...” she said – sounding way too cheerless in his opinion. Albeit he could hardly manage it thanks to his weakness, he forced himself to answer lowly: “I am fine. Do not worry.”  
Midgardsormr noticed her smile because of the suspicious sound mortals made sometimes while their faces demonstrate gladness, but he knew it wasn't the happiest one. Groaning inwardly, everything which was still awake inside of him resisted the urge to creep to the maiden.


	7. Chapter 7

# Chapter Seven

The sound of glass that bumped into each other woke him up.  
Opening his lids somewhat, Midgardsormr stared drowsy at the young girl who tidied the mess up. A soft smile lay on these petal-lips and was reflected by the different-colored irises. Her whole focus lay on the glasses; she never looked up. Also, under all the noise which the bottles made when they landed in a sack, he could hear her humming a peaceful melody. She seemed to enjoy this task honestly, albeit this here was not her home... Letting oneself feel haimish must be an important part of being an adventurer. At least he figured this out as he watched her.  
The dragon tried to raise his heavy head, but he was still too tired; his corpus wouldn't allow it. Grumbling hushed, his absurdly long ears twitched in discontent about the grave disadvantages which a baby-like appearance had. This bad joke was hunting him already for too long...  
Stretching his limbs, they ached like suffering under muscle-hangover. Even his tail felt clenched. That body was exhausted only because of yestereve's cold air... Laying all night next to a warm fire hadn't prevented the unpleasing aftereffect from occurring...  
Midgardsormr growled audible in frustration.  
Abruptly, Cecilia looked at him – she had noticed his displeasure.  
His eyes widened in pure embarrassment, when she studied him with questioning, unsettled gazes. “Have I woken you up? I'm sorry... You seemed to be sleeping so deeply, that I didn't expect you to regain consciousness only because of a bit glass-clicking.” she apologized guiltily. Shaking minimal his head, he mustered the energy to respond: “I was not complaining about thy doing...” He was so ashamed of his body, that it was impossible for him to explain for her the reason of his displeasure. Actually, he never stopped feeling humiliated when he recalled how sinewy his true shape had been. The one, which lay now dead on the cursed Garlean airship-wreckage; useless for not only himself. For this chaotic world, too.  
“But you sounded crestfallen... and angry...” she noticed worried. “I am...” his words left reluctantly this excuse of a snout; agreeing heavy-heartedly to her smart detection. The tune his voice made was admittedly rough because of his inner strain, though. It caused the woman to react frightened. She furrowed the brows while her head trembled as if a tiny quake would move it. Concern spread over the facial expression. “Why...? I can't see another logical reason for your---” Cecilia petrified, as if she would have found an answer to her question by herself. Frowning, she stepped to his place right in front of the chimney; kneeling next to him on the ground.  
“You haven't recovered – is that why you are in a bad mood?” she wanted to know.  
Flinching as much as his body allowed it, he gazed at her upset face. The stare of the jewel was hard to counter, but the crystal was impossible to endure. Her blue iris had the power to inculpate him in a way so agonizing that he could no longer hold eye-contact. Shutting his lids down, he replied slightly desperate: “This body is as shameful unresistant as a real newborn of my kind...”  
He heard her snorting. Then, she caused his eyes to swung open with shock, as she grabbed him ungentle with both hands. Lifted him from the ground, so that Midgardsormr was harshly pressed against the upper part of her body. “Okay, that's it. You go to bed and sleep under the blanket until you feel better.” ,Cecilia chuntered severely as she carried him through the room, “I won't accept any protest, so don't dare to open your mouth.”  
Irritation spread over his face; replacing the dismay, when she put him on the cushion like a mother of human kind would do with her child. Anger boiled within the maiden, but she made nevertheless sure to touch him not in a hurting way. Her hands weren't tender while she pulled the blanket over his corpus until it reached his chin, though, yet it was no harmful doing in any aspect. The dragon lowered his lids as he studied her face – marveled the beauty of her mien, which was still despite her aggressive seriousness visible as she corrected the fabric around him.  
He felt instantly better, as the blanket was still a little bit warm.  
Also, his nostrils noticed faintly her smell which stuck to the gray bedding.  
“You stay here, got it? When I'm not present as soon as you wake up, you don't leave this room.” the Au Ra demanded with a stern expression. He inclined his head minimal to the right side, while his irises wandered like a lazy cascade over her body. 'Like a dragon-parent...' he thought pleased by her behavior. Probably, the species didn't even matter, because all mothers and fathers in this world expected from their children to rest whenever their condition was absolutely unhealthy.  
Cecilia seemed to wait for an answer, because her fists landed with impatient speed on her hips.  
A low sigh escaped his muzzle before he responded: “Thou must not worry... I will not go anywhere nor will I leave thee. It is not my wish to vanish.”  
His promise calmed the maiden clearly. Her eyes became softer, while her furrowed brows relaxed. She nodded plus smiled slightly at him. “Okay, I believe you. Although I wouldn't recommend lies when it comes to someone's health, you know...? It's not only that it would hurt the trust others share with this person, but also it could make things worse for the person's condition.” Midgardsormr closed his lids when the girl was finished. As if he wouldn't know this... Yet, it was good to hear, how the maiden thought about this topic. He didn't like such risky lies, either.  
Although he was of the mind, that the young ones shouldn't worry about old beings...  
“Take a proper nap, okay?” she asked while her feet made minimal noise, so that his attention drifted back to her. Midgardsormr tried to open his eyes, yet it was difficult... His lids raised admittedly slowly; sleep's temptation was calling him insistent. He had therefore a blurry vision when he looked at Cecilia who grabbed the sack full of bottles in this moment.  
“I plan to visit the Astrologian-guild after trashing the glass. Probably, it'll take a longer while until I come back... So, uhm, stick to your promise in case you wake early up. If you do anything stupid, you'll receive a punishment which rivals the wrath of you dragons.” the maiden said as imperious as she was able to sound while she wasn't driven by anger. Without true ire, she really could not match a leader's acerbity – like Erik usually demonstrated nonstop every day.  
Midgardsormr chuckled muted, before he nodded visible.  
Truth be told: The Methuselah found it amusing how lovely her threat appeared now to him, after her rampant frustration before had frightened him somehow. Nursing others appeared to be a clear part of his wondrous companion. With that, she would one day fulfill the role of a mother perfectly; he was sure of it. Albeit Cecilia resembled already a good vested daughter, as long as he considered the fact how this young woman cared for him alias an ancient father.  
“See you later, Midgard.” she uttered gentle as her feet carried her through the door; the pretty face leaning over her right shoulder as she looked one last time at him. The dragon-father answered unrestricted her smile, before his eyes as well as the wood shut simultaneously toneless down. Sinking deeper under the blanket, Midgardsormr inhaled gladly the sweetish scent that resembled peach-blossoms so very much. He had to be honest... It was a relief to lay here.  
Cecilia was no longer physically present in this chamber, yet he could indirectly enjoy her warmth and allow her smell to wander through his nostrils. He didn't want to show her his questionable, nonsensical addiction in any way. One of his severe reasons to not share the doss with her, in fact... But he could not deny himself the easement of his urge to feel more personal closeness.  
He wondered, how his son Hraesvelgr had managed the bond to a special humane being in the past; long before mankind had betrayed the dragons. Midgardsormr despaired at times of the difficulty, which his little mortal maiden meant... But the love in the heart of his son must have endured a pain with such unimaginable strength, that the dragon-father could never comprehend it completely.  
Sighing, he pressed his head and back against the cushion. Breathing out shallowly.  
Friendships with mortals... They were already his very own, tough frontier...

The dragon was dreaming an innocent, sweet mental deceit.  
It was far away from reality, but one could die away in this bonniness.  
In his peaceful illusion, he was a grown-up, but not yet giant creature of his kind. He lay on a foggy, serene meadow, and gloried in the happiness parents experience in observing their children.  
All his seven descendants were there – all yet small and naive. Untouched by the evil of this world. Never harmed by mankind. But he was not talking to them, as they were busy with playing and romping around; enjoying each others presence entirely. Instead, he conversed with an eighth child; the youngest infant that he had not yet with him when he entered this world. A child who originated not from an egg nor from the place where he had been born.  
It was a half draconic, half humane being. The rosy-skinned girl possessed a few scales so delicate yet pretty, that she was his most important treasure. A six-year-old lovey who he guarded jealously and wanted to protect much more than her older siblings. Her sweet, docile nature fitted his instinct, so she never opposed him and never left his side. His very own star...  
As she had a humane body, she wore a short, silky white dress, which emphasized her fragile shape compared to the rough dragon-children, although it was meant to mantle her distinct vulnerability. When she moved a bit, the fabric's waves around her tiny curves drew light-reflexes on her skin, wherefore it resembled the bodies of fairies. Her hair did that, too, since her long strands were almost white – bright gold that became only close to the tips yellow. If he could give her wings, maybe he would do so just because it would be a beautiful view, yet he wouldn't since he feared these mysterious irises would never look at him again if they could travel freely through the world. This crystal and this jewel belonged to him; him alone.  
Moreover, his little Cecilia had almost only eyes for the dragon – rarely gazing at her older siblings, so her attention lay solely on her father. She was smiling at him like an angel and laughed heavenly whenever Midgardsormr told her something funny. She hugged his neck and head when she wanted to show him her affection; gave him soft kisses on his cheeks in order to thank him for his fondness. The child even tried to braid a floral-wreath for him, although the flowers were too small to match his draconic body properly, so she needed more blooms than a human would.  
He couldn't stop watching her fragile shape move. He never grew tired of seeing the girl simply being alive and healthy. If there would be anything he could do about her presumable short lifespan, he surely would give up even his eyes in order to share his own, very long existence with her. Cecilia was now just a little child, but he knew she would betimes wither like a flower as soon as the draconic blood in her veins would no longer suffice to stop the humane side from passing away. While he thought about it, he became angry about life's inequity, so he pulled the girl with his tail into his 'arms' and held her tight. She bestowed a worried look at him, but it was swiftly hard to bear her sorrow, wherefore he nuzzled the sweet maiden to scatter her skepticism.  
“My little girl... I will always protect you.” he told her informal; softly.  
She smiled and cupped his face tenderly with her tiny hands.  
Her angelic voice filled his ears: “Love you, Papa.”

The words' echo was still jingling in his mind, when his lids lifted themselves lazily.  
Midgardsormr couldn't recall, when he had dreamed for the last time so clearly, that he remembered simply everything which his subconsciousness was feigning. With all these pictures in his head, obtaining a proper vision wasn't easy, so his eyes blurred the environment several times. However, he closed them, when he sat his body cumbersome up – feeling dizzy after that much sleep.  
A muted groan left his muzzle, while he clawed into the blanket.  
“Oh-oh, that doesn't sound good... Are you alright?”  
At first Midgardsormr thought, that he must be hallucinating to hear the soft voice from his dream, but then he recognized the mature sound it made. Glancing over to the desk, he saw the archmage sitting on a stool; holding a book in her hands. The dusk's light fell on her face – coloring her skin as orange as some Daylilies appear. Her red eye framed by gold was glowing like a bonfire, while the blue one resembled the sea when the sun quasi vanishes within it.  
She looked breathtakingly beautiful.  
He resisted the urge to fly over and touch her cheeks just in order to know how they felt like.  
'It was a dream. Just a dream...' he hammered the thought into his mind. It was unacceptable to act – to feel like this... Just because of a crazy sweven, he could not let his guard down. A delusion was and would always be only a nice, but unreal idea the passive sides of his brain had created.  
“Should I make you some medicine...? A headache-tablet, for example?” the Whitemage asked and raised her eyebrows while she examined him severely. The chuckle of an ill-humored, old man left his throat before he could even think about it. A shameful reaction; likewise in her and his opinion. “I wasn't joking.” she stated sobered – confirming his impression of having reacted asininely. “Please, excuse me...” ,he mumbled with closed eyes and shook several times slowly his head from one side to the other, “Thou hast the misfortune to experience me with a 'washy' mind...”  
He felt her serious gazes all over his body. It was unsettling. Thus, the corpus' movement stopped and his eyes opened themselves enough, that they could counter her stare. Smoldering visible. Midgardsormr saw, that she noticed the anger in them as her upper part of the body jerked minimal, but Cecilia didn't end these criminative glances she gave him.  
“Pardon me, but I was worried about you.” she snapped finally and looked away.  
His lids made more room for his eyes, as he stared perplexed at her. While the maiden was paying only regard to the book in her hands, the dragon-father let his mind repeat these words a few times. He didn't know, how he should handle her concern anymore when it came to him. At least not now, while he was still affected by his maddening dream...  
Meanwhile, the maiden turned over – indulging in the text, as it seemed.  
It was an astrology-book, so he could bet she had started the studies of an Astrologian.  
Smiling, Midgardsormr left the blanket and stretched himself extensive. The evil glow of his eyes died down a fortiori he watched her reading the tome. Such a diligent mortal she was... Ambitious; in the most positive way. It was more to his liking, than he should allow it.  
The dragon's face heated, when his stomach made loud noise.  
As sigh came from the maiden as she heard his audible hunger. Not looking up this time, she asked: “Although I'm an Alchemist, you won't accept any medicine from me, wherefore you will not accept the food I made in afternoon for you under Erik's advise, I suppose?” His ears twitched, when the mentioning of a meal reached his brain. Albeit it wasn't because of the pleasing possibility to fill his empty stomach, that he made big eyes like a child of his kind.  
“Thou hast... cooked something... for me...?” the dragon barely dared to question.  
Cecilia raised her head and fixated the window right in front of her; instead of turning the face into his direction. She breathed sharply in, then held her breath as if she wanted to keep any kind of an unfriendly reaction down. Yet, there was no complete success, because a snort escaped her nose. Midgardsormr knew instinctively, that a dragon would have growled in this moment at him, since she acted too similar to his species as if he could ignore it. So, he wondered, why she bore her anger with such a clear aversion down.  
Unsure, if it was the right thing to do, he uttered muted: “I... appreciate thy care. Truthfully.”  
“Since when?” she responded immediately – insulting his pride directly with her sudden cynicism. He wasn't sure, if he should react to her harsh statement at all, albeit his sense of fairness told him, how adequate Cecilias accusation was. It wouldn't be right to rebuke her... Thus, the dragon stared motionless at the Au Ra. Undecided, how to handle this moment.  
It was her, who ended abruptly the dilemma. “I'm sorry, Midgard..." ,she said conscience-stricken with her face lowered down, “I just don't feel well, when I have no idea how I can treat you properly without hitting a nerve of yours... Seeing your irises glow made me realize, how bad I am in reading your mood... This shouldn't end in an argument...”  
Furrowing his brows, he stretched his neck into her direction. The temptation was too strong... Hardly to resist... Midgardsormr wanted to hold her face; caress it. He wanted to be as emotionally close to her, as he had been in his dream to this reflection of hers which his brain had created. It was a need that consumed him from second to second more...  
“Thou art right... I do not show thee enough, how welcome thy care is for me.” he shrived – breaking the silence while he fought his longing. As he watched her with narrowed lids in his tiring and never-ending helplessness, the young woman finally lifted her head again. She turned it to him and answered shyly his gaze. Her face was agonizing to behold, because the irises were fraught with honest guilt – hence it nettled his fatherly instincts plus stung into his sympathy for her.  
Oh Hydaelyn... How much he wished for this girl to be a dragon...  
“Do your words mean then... that you will eat the food I made for you...?” Cecilia asked slowly. Hope lay in her voice; calling acute for his weak spot until the point was reached, where his pride and awkwardness could not oppress said feebleness anymore. Agonized, he squinted his eyes: “Yes, I will eat thy meal... I would prefer taking care of my stomach by myself and to return thee finally the favor of being nursed, but in this condition, it is not possible... Thus, I accept thy support.”  
The maiden nodded with furrowed brows; lost in thoughts, as it seemed. While she stood up and walked to the closet, she mumbled: “You expect me to care for you, only because your current body is helpless like a baby...?” Opening the wooden object, she took a silvery plate out of it. Before, Cecilia had cooled the dish permanently with an ice-spell, which she removed now in the second her hands held the plate. Midgardsormr widened his eyes, when he could discover a selection of several small fishes – seafood in general – and a bit salad on it.  
“I made this not for you in consideration of your appearance.” ,the Au Ra stated and heated carefully the meat with a fire-spell, “Whether or not you're an independent dragon doesn't matter in my opinion. I just wanted to make sure, that you will not starve when you wake eventually up. Although I knew it wouldn't be self-evident for you to accept the food...”  
She placed the plate right in front of him on the mattress. The fried fishes and seafood smelled wonderfully – the few, fresh lettuce-leaves looked delicious. Midgardsormr stared disbelieving at all the tasty morsels, which were arranged above all in a pretty manner. Such an exquisite meal should be served to nobody else but him...?  
Gulping, he questioned choked off by emotion: “Thou hast... cooked this for me...?”  
She folded her arms and nodded slightly into the direction of the plate. Her face was a stony facade. “Don't talk. Just eat.” she said deadhearted. His ears vellicated, as he looked from her to the plate; hesitating. But his stomach alias instincts took quickly control over his mind. Then, he grabbed one of the fishes and bit deeply into the flesh.  
His eyes widened themselves, when a taste descending from heaven glided pleasant over his tongue. She smiled as his irises searched in positive shock for hers; said chuckling: “Don't forget I had help. Without Erik's advise, you wouldn't find it half as good as you do now. Hopefully, you can savor thanks to him this work of a clueless little dilettante.” Her mood had been lightened, as it seemed. At least, the icy atmosphere melted just as quickly as the fish in his mouth...  
The morsel went down his throat indescribable smoothly, while he gazed still nonstop at her face – full of embarrassment. “I must... thank thee for this...” All words left him right within the midst of his concession, so he lowered his head down and took the next bite. The maiden laughed muted, which 'tickled' his ears pleasantly. Glancing at her, he watched how she went back to the desk plus grabbed her book. The text caught her instantly again as she sank down on the stool... Midgardsormr wished for a moment to have her unshared attention, yet he was abashed to think about the possibility itself. Shaking his head, he continued the meal.  
After the last bite had entered his stomach, he yawned intensely.  
Cecilia hummed with a sound that revealed her delight; she answered his curious peering instantly. “You're sated, I hope?” the girl asked smiling. He nodded shyly; let his lids sink down, as he found it embarrassing how happy his satisfaction made her. This joy nettled his subconscious too much – he memorized the crazed dream anew... Thus, he avoided any eye-contact with her; looked sighing at the mattress. If she would be his daughter... he wouldn't feel so awkward now, correct...?  
The maiden took the plate away from the bed; her free hand brushed his ears softly. Albeit he was not accustomed to it, this time, the touch had instantly no negative effects on him. So he gazed again at her. She refrained from him and walked to the door – surely she wanted to bring that plate to the kitchen in order to wash it. Nevertheless her eyes studied him tenderly while her hand landed on the doorknob. Her irises shimmered in a way which slowly intoxicated the Methuselah...  
“Thy dinner was wonderful...” he whispered overwhelmed once more by her care. It was not because of politeness, though, that he admitted this fact. The dragon sensed simply, that she deserved his open gratitude... Cecilia stepped out of the room, while she said: “That's good to hear. If you want me to cook now and then for you, just tell me, okay? Because I would gladly do this.” She bestowed a sweet smile at him – he could barely nod under her sparkling eyes.  
When she had closed the door soundless behind her, Midgardsormr breathed sharply out.  
“That is too much...” he mumbled shakily, hence all these impressions were over-straining him.  
Flying to the desk for a bit diversion, he took a short glimpse at the open book-pages. Indeed, it was a fascinating tome, so he lay down on the piece of furniture in order to read the text a bit. Ah... Once, he had learned the common font of mortals in order to understand their strange writings... Hard to believe, that he could make use of his dusty knowledge again...  
When the maiden came back, he was just finished with comprehending the last sentences on the second open page. As he hadn't recognized the door's movement, he looked now up in wonderment when he noticed her presence. Cecilia, on the other hand, gave him a confused gaze, so he lowered his own driven by shame.  
It hadn't been his intention to read a lot in this door-stopper without her permission...  
He just had forgotten his resolution while indulging in these fascinating written words...  
“I didn't know that you're interested into books.” she stated with a gentle pitch in the voice.  
Confusion spread over Midgardsormrs face as her words affected him. The meaning behind them. His 'misbehavior'... It did... please her...? If so, then why would he rather welcome her anger instead of the happiness he could behold now in this humane mien? Why was he afraid of her delight...? This aversion was not logical... Yet it was there.  
He twitched, when the Au Ra came to the desk and placed her right hand next to him on the wood. Reflexively, his lids shut themselves in order to hide the Methuselahs emergent timidness. “Usually, I am not... Thy grimoire just made me curious...” the dragon replied and convolved into a perfect circle; increasing the distance to that warmth-emitting hand. With this action, his body-language demonstrated a dismissive stance – a cold shoulder, like mortals might describe it...  
Following, he felt her sad gaze on his face. She understood his gesture... And these odd-colored, never restricted irises were therefore silently begging for redemption... As he couldn't stand their expression for too long, Midgardsormr responded quickly through the corners of the eyes. Indeed, her facial expression showed corrosive misery when he examined it expressionless.  
A sigh left his half-opened muzzle. “What am I supposed to do with thee...?” he asked muted; afterwards not jerking when she smiled abashed and caressed his long ears gently.  
Cecilia sat down on the stool; not moving her hand away from him. She wanted to continue reading, yet this contact seemed to be more important to her, as she looked only at him... The dragon eyeballed this strange maiden for a moment without blinking, before his lids sank again completely over his field of vision. Tiredness had caught him again...  
Her fingers slipped slowly from his ears, when his consciousness did obvious the same to his mind, so he forgot all pride as well as morale via his sleep-drugged request: “Let thy hand stay on me...” She hesitated, but before he fell asleep, she caressed uninterrupted his head.

In the following three days, Cecilia was busy with her Astrology-studies.  
But the new spells she learned were not the only reason which brought her to Ishgards streets whenever she practiced them. It was for the homeless who suffered under illnesses and injuries, that she left the warm guild-building or the lively guesthouse. The archmage gave her best to ease their sufferings – at the most for the children, who returned the affection she gave them after overcoming their first distrust. Albeit it might be helpful, that the all-beloved, illegitimate Fortemps-son was keeping her company whenever he could.  
Haurchefant seemed to be popular under the paupers and children of all social classes.  
The Elezen was famous for supporting little humans plus derelicts with meals and clothes, wherefore the maiden he favored earned automatically the respect of those young and poor lives. They had also heard from the self-proclaimed fan of the Warriors, which heroic tasks Cecilia and her companions had to fulfill, so they acted impressed by the simple sound of her name.  
Yet, it was only for her docile nature, that the children developed aforesaid true affection. This and Haurchefant's loving eyes on her – these irises which screamed silently at the whole world, how dear to him this single Au Ra was.  
Midgardsormr watched everything from the maiden's shoulder.  
He could tell, that the knight's emotion towards her was pure and innocent.  
Also, Haurchefant was even investing a few hours into keeping the promise he had given to her. When she had cooked that meal for the dragon, the man had spent the whole free-time which he had gotten on that day with her in the hostel's kitchen. As Midgardsormr rather accidentally learned about this occurrence, a hint of jealousy crawled through his chest for a while.  
Because of an unknown reason, it made him also crestfallen, that she hadn't told him this information in the mentioned evening. No vow might bind her to him, yet the simple fact she 'concealed' something from him did truthfully harm his ambition to trust Cecilia. The dragon found this oddness within his mind preposterous and tried to ignore it – with all the might his willpower could develop. After all, this trait was similar to those weak, humane creatures... Their natures... And he did not want to be comparable... But still, his disappointment was despite the hilariousness a true sentiment he experienced.  
He wondered, how a bit jealousy could irritate his given personality like this.  
When the archmage was not distracting him via her studies or social actions, the Methuselah thought about this strange attitude he felt deep down whenever he became jealous. It was not common for him to have such emotions. Although there had never been a reason ever before to feel such discontent... In his crazed dream, he might have guarded the little Cecilia whom his brain had created with such presumptuous selfish greed, yet it had been his fatherly instinct which led him to this behavior...  
But the instinct which controlled him now inwardly was quite different. And he was worried, which direction this feeling might take in the future, as he was entirely uninformed about it.

A snowball flew just a few centimeters next to him through the air.  
Nostrils wrinkled in anger, the dragon leaned himself closer to the maiden's neck – searching for a sanctuary as he wasn't interested into getting hit. Those mortal children and their silly games... Midgardsormr found it honestly ridiculous, how any citizens could toy around with something which should remind them, that they had to freeze every single day...  
“Be careful, kids! Or else my patient here will have an injury additionally to his flu!” the Au Ra called laughing, while she medicated an older man with some pills she as an Alchemist had created. The children reacted embarrassed; lowered their heads instantly: “S-Sorry, Mademoiselle Shirone! Won't happen again!” She smiled gently at them, when nervous glances reached her colorful irises, so the small humans continued appeased their innocent game.  
Shaking his head in incomprehension, the Methuselah hovered from Cecilia's shoulder – aiming for an elevated windowsill to take there a safely seat. He doubted the trustworthiness of the children... Doubted it a lot. They acted too frolicsome, as if he could take them by their words.  
Albeit he was rather busy with realizing something else...  
How much did he disrelish the sound those mortals made... when they addressed the maiden with her surname... This 'Miss Shirone' or that 'Mademoiselle Shirone' – these phrases displeased him; made his ears twitch whenever they fell. It was not only for the young ones, that he felt this way, though, wherefore he was perplexed by this oddity.  
But.. The Au Ra's given name, on the other hand... It was proper. Beautiful. He might not use it, yet he enjoyed it when her friends called out for the archmage. He sometimes wished to join the choir, in fact, as he wanted to know how it might roll over his tongue. Last night, he had even dreamed, how he was nursing again the little version of hers; whispering her name softly...  
In Hydealyn's name, just what was wrong with him...?!  
A sigh escaped his throat, when the maiden was done with the medical care.  
'Please distract me from my thoughts...' Midgardsormr pleaded full of hope in his mind, when she switched back to her Astrology-class. And as if she could hear the request, she began to walk – gazing up to him in order to make sure, that he would follow her. An unremarkable smile glided over his muzzle; honest gladness flowed within his heart, that she released him from his concern. So, he flew right behind her, when she continued her usual stroll through the Foundation.  
A few minutes later, a group of teenagers appeared within sight.  
Cecilia stopped in front of these beings, who were not yet completely grown up Hyur.  
Their doing was, what caught her curiousness immediately. And for somebody like her who seemed to develop interest for the most trivial things, it would rather surprise the dragon if she should not indulge in the view which this bunch of mortals offered.  
The young men were exercising the handling of sword and shield. Practicing with wooden replicas. Although it looked gauche in Midgardsormr's eyes, who had seen true knights on the battlefield, those boys gave obviously their very best to train reflexes and strength. He could somewhat understand the maiden's fascination... Albeit he knew, that young humans without a royal title or noble ancestry would have no bright future in Ishgards hierarchy.  
For a few minutes, the young woman watched the boys until they decided to take a break.  
She congratulated them on their ambition, which made the men blush in abashment, as they clearly knew who she was. “B-But no, a Warrior of Light shouldn't praise us...” the bravest boy responded, which she refuted with a blitheful smile. “Go and get yourselves a warm meal, will you? So you all will stay as healthy and strong as you are now.” she said; hands folded close to her face, which was looking more rosy than usual since she wore an attire similar to snowy owls.  
The men blushed even more under the pretty view she meant – something, which Midgardsormr couldn't judge, as he himself felt affected by her... Politely, the boys bowed deeply to the maiden, before they picked their bags plus wooden tools up; seemingly antsy by her curiosity. Her eyes lay without pause on them, while they got their belongings, and did not even let go of those mortals, when aforesaid ones made their way home.  
How could she care so much for these strangers, he wondered...  
She studied the boys no longer as they vanished, but her attention had switched to something else. Midgardsormr followed the direction of her gaze into the distance, because serious worry glimmered in her irises. It was a mystery to him, why her mood should change so drastically...  
Cecilia looked at a child.  
It was an Elezen; so small and fragile that it would never survive without the help of others. A girl, presumably, because there was long, blond hair which framed the sleeping face. She sat on the cold, stony ground while her back leaned tired against the wall. Although this picture was not new to the two of them, something must be wrong, since Cecilias eyes widened in shock.  
The archmage walked slowly to the pitiful being with an expression on her face which the dragon had never seen before in her mien. She knelt wordless down and began to wand the little Elezen; starting with her forehead and cheeks. When she checked the chest – the heartbeat, her lids fell partly down, so that the long lashes darkened the irises. Their expression became gloomy... A few seconds went by without another movement, but then, Cecilia blinked finally. And the dragon was confused to no end, when he could suddenly watch silent tears leaving her eyes.  
Careful, he neared the mage and sat next to her left side down. For a moment, Midgardsormr was caught in the view to see her mourn the loss of a young life without any sound. Never had he beheld a mortal crying with the dignity of an higher being...  
“Hast thou... known this child...?” he asked muted. She shook her head slightly: “No, Midgard... No, I don't know her at all...” Irritation spread over his face. “Then, why art thou sad? She was not even from thy species...” he noticed puzzled. “Because I can imagine how she might have suffered. How much pain she must have endured in the coldness. Empathy and pity are not dependent on the origin of a creature. Or do you think I could allow you to accompany me if I wouldn't be able to grasp the loss dragons feel when we mortals kill your brethren?” she responded and looked at him with a stern gaze; tears still gliding over her cheeks.  
Midgardsormr stepped backwards as confusion and distrust leaded his body.  
She glared at him just like an angry dragon would do. It didn't matter, that the right eye was bordered with gold and the other was ice-blue as a crystal. The wrath was nevertheless intense. Yet, not everlasting like the emotion of his kind, because the irises became again sad when she gazed once more at the dead girl. Her hands wandered to the peaceful face; caressing it. Cecilia cried stronger while she whispered: “I could have helped her... I could have found a way to let this girl enjoy a happier life... There's no reason why this innocent life had to die...”  
He was entirely speechless.  
The death of an unknown child let her suffer to such an extent, that he couldn't tell the difference between the loss of a friend or the one of a stranger. Did she feel this way, because it was a young, harmless life which had ended abruptly...? But: Did mortals really have such powerful emotions? They were so unreal with their short lifespans... And they cared not truthfully for each other.  
How should one who didn't learn anything from tragedies truly be empathetic...?

The cold breeze made him shiver.  
But he couldn't return; not now, while he waited for any kind of information...  
Midgardsormr sighed and repositioned himself on the streetlight. What an egregious fool he was... Leaving the tavern without informing Cecilia had surely been a mistake... His promise given a few days ago was turned into a forthright lie...  
But he simply had to act, when he noticed in her absence, that a bunch of significant knights planned something. Something involving Hraesvelgr's brood, perhaps... There was no other option left than following them. He wouldn't have been able to detect them willingly in the large Ishgard. Not as powerless as he was; caged in his puppet-disguise... Hence, he had floated all the way up to the Pillars behind those unknown mortals.  
And when the men were vanished into the building right before him, only a half-opened window in the first floor allowed the dragon to eavesdrop their words. Trying to crawl through the gap had been a waste of time – and staying on the sill would have been a parlous idea... So he sat now here, on this lamp, and listened to the crack-brained ideas the knights spoke, while they waited seemingly for their head; their leader.  
Sighing, the dragon wrapped his wings as much around his corpus as possible.  
If he would been used to the human's way of measure the clock-time-adjustment... How long might he meanwhile stay on this streetlight? Was his companion already finished with the shopping-tour which Tammy and Tataru had begged her to join? Had she returned meantime to the odd guesthouse in order to notice his absence...? Was she worried about him...?  
Midgardsormr jerked, but not because of the cold.  
'Why? Just why do I... care?' he thought entirely over-strained.  
Yet, he could not reflect on his unusual train of thoughts anymore.  
An older Elezen in expensive-looking clothes waltzed into the building which the dragon observed. Skeptical, he payed attention to the sudden silence of those knights, who had been before boisterously and bubbly. It took just their following, formal greeting to realize, that the newcomer was indeed their leader.  
This yet nameless aristocrat, for whom Midgardsormr had broken his serious promise to Cecilia, was apparently not an important man, since he was no descendant of the city's four royal families. Albeit he must have stronger influences which reached even one of the two aggressive houses, because the man's self-assuredness was obvious.  
Plus, considering the fact how the knights reacted politely to him, his rank was surely high enough to make the notorious inquisitors private tools for his wishes... Presumably, the heads of his enemies would roll in the moment he expressed the suspicion of them being heretics...  
Midgardsormr was instantly disgusted by this man.  
As the Methuselah listened to the following conversation, it sounded like a shrewd plan to convince Count Durendaire of a necessary assault on the dragons living in the Churning Mists – unimportant, to which brood they belonged. As the 'pangolins' were attacking the folk of Ishgard from day to day more frequently, a pre-emptive strike would be suitable, as it would be a sign of rigidity.  
But the thought went even further.  
Before the heretics could become a nuisance in this affair, it was top-priority to chase and imprison them as soon as possible. Otherwise, they would surely interfere under Lady Iceheart's leadership who had foreseen other plans of Ishgard in the past. This aspect of the mortal's plan would probably play at the most into the hands of Count Durendaire as well his relatives, as this royal family was widely known for having a private hatred on the city's traitors.  
Additional, the Count himself justified his high status through his loyalty to Archbishop or rather Pope Thordan, so that another reason existed why he would listen to the aristocrat. The heretics challenged the authority of the church – therefore the Pope's authority – and Durendaire would do whatever it took to protect this symbol of power.  
Memorizing all of this, Midgardsormr was glad to be unremarkable in this puppet-shape.  
His left ear stretched in concentration, he was slowly crestfallen how less information the remaining members of the Scions had obtained during their stay in Ishgard. They would have never noticed this secret plan... Albeit he admitted, that Alphinaud and Tataru could hardly do any larger, noticeable steps, as such would draw distrust on them.  
Not to forget, that the Warriors were busy with supporting every bagatelle that needed a true hero. He wouldn't be surprised, if the malicious knights would later seek for them to do the dirty work... Adventurers were perfect errand-boys for the inquisitors – taking advantage on their wish to help would surely resemble the picture Midgardsormr had about Ishgard's benefited citizens.  
It was wondrous, why Erik as the Warrior's leader tolerated any exploitation...

The nobleman's oration lost its importance.  
But while the humans conversed now about trivial things that had nothing to do with the dragonwar, Midgardsormr felt unsettled deep down in his mind. When he considered all of this... Would it be his duty to inform Hraesvelgr about this merciless plan...? Not, that any of the descendants knew about the certainty, how their ancestor had returned to life... Yet, could the father of dragon-kind... Could his consciousness allow such mortal cruelty to happen without interfering...?  
He twitched abruptly.  
Humane noise was suddenly filling the air.  
Puzzled, the Methuselah looked from his lantern down at the street – unable to grasp this event.  
It took a moment, until he realized, that a child was running around; screaming something with such a high pitch in the voice, that he barely understood it. The few royal Elezen plus servants outside beheld the little being with furrowed brows and wrinkled noses – he shared their irritation at once. Assuming, this girl was searching for... a pet or puppet, she was definitely not discreet in her doing. The striking loud tune of hers resembled the shrieking of several big bird-exemplars he knew...  
All of a sudden, she ran to his streetlight when her eyes had recognized him.  
She neared the metallic object in a hurried manner, which was unsettling. The dragon's wings folded themselves close to his body, while his ears sank a bit down. He wasn't sure, if it would be necessary to attack her, so he eyeballed her hand when she lifted it. Human children loved throwing stones or in general small things at other creatures...  
He stared confused at the young Hyur, when she simply pointed with her index-finger at him.  
“There he is! There's Mini!” she shouted loudly with a determined expression.  
'W-What...? Mini...?'  
Another high-pitched voice screamed: “You found him?” A boy, seemingly. In the distance, Midgardsormr could see another small Hyur with short hair – hazelnut-brown colored like the girl. Perhaps they were siblings... She turned her head into his direction and replied with her noisy tune: “Pretty sure that this doll is Mini! Go and get Ceci – I take care of him meanwhile!”  
The boy nodded visibly, before he ran obviously down to the Foundation; in a hectic movement.  
“Don't dare to leave! You hear me?! Ceci is worried about you!” the girl reproached the dragon. Amongst her speech, she wobbled with her finger that still pointed at him. Like an adult might do while scolding a child. It would be amusing to contemplate, if he wouldn't be disgruntled.  
So Cecilia was indeed searching for him... But why these children, too?  
Not to mention... Why this awful nickname...?  
Supposable three minutes passed, until Midgardsormr's little overseer stopped gaping at him.  
“It IS him, right? RIGHT?” she asked loudly, when the boy returned with the archmage in tow. Looking shortly at the dragon, the Au Ra granted the young humans a grateful smile. “Aye, you two have detected my precious puppet. I'm so glad he's no longer lost.” the Astrologian said with a tune as appeasing as panpipes could be. Sadly, it was only meant for the children...  
When she looked again at him, her face appeared gloomy. Not directly angry, but crestfallen. Perhaps he would have succumbed to her feelings, but the fact how she had involved other humans in her search dissatisfied the Methuselah. If she would have waited for him in the tavern – or would instead rummage alone through the streets, there had been no place for any exasperation within him. Midgardsormr could have shown her all grief he felt for breaking his promise; enduring any kind of punishment she might have considered to be adequate for his indirect misconduct.  
But as the crystal and the jewel gazed at him in the way they did...  
He refused this manner of concern which the maiden felt.

Limp like a bag, his corpus hang in the air; only held by her hands.  
The dragon spoke not a single word to Cecilia, while she carried him back to the guesthouse.  
It was not only in order to emphasize the lie, though, that he would be only a harmless toy. Actually, he wasn't in the condition for uttering anything. Apart from the fact, that her ridiculous action did truthfully hurt his pride... He was too angry as if he would even want to communicate with her.  
Midgardsormr hated it to be treated like a baby... This body was enough penalty...  
Just because he had done a single ego-trip – without telling her about it – didn't have to mean automatically the inclusion of other mortals... If he would not be paralyzed by this strange situation, nothing would stop him from turning around and biting into her upper part of the body. Her usual, slowly maddening distrust into his goodwill was strangling him more and more, because he didn't want to be encouraged to despise humankind to a greater extend than he already did.  
The stinging smell of booze whipped his sensitive nostrils when she opened the tavern's door.  
Ignoring the bad aroma as good as possible, he endured for another moment the embarrassing fact to be carried around like a puppet. His patience was little, yet he did not move one muscle before she entered her guestroom. Then, he bit her left hand slightly, wherefore she loosened the grip around him. Slipping out of her fingers, he landed graceful on the floor – not even glancing at her, when he immediately increased the distance to the Au Ra.  
The door fell shut, while he sat down in front of the chimney.  
No other sound filled the air. It was a silence which fortified his wrath.  
Midgardsormr stared at her from the corners of his eyes – irises burning like fire.  
“Mini...?!?” he spat the fake-name at last with disgust. It was all he could say; still choked by anger. Cecilia shrugged unperturbed, as if nothing had happened before: “Yeah. Mini. The kids just wanted to know your name. I couldn't tell them your true appellation, of course. Nor the short version of it which I use to address you. So, I simply used another term with 'M'. If you had been a human being, I would have given you naturally a proper name. 'Midge Luminae', for example.”  
Her explanation was serious. The severe opinion was written in her irises.  
Shaking his head, he looked at the fire in front of him. Unbelievable, this mortal...  
He heard her footsteps – the way she neared him slowly made him inconspicuously quiver. “Midgard, please, don't be upset. Your disappearance just frightened me, so I asked the kids for help instead of waiting a little bit longer for your return.” she uttered melancholy; guessing his thoughts plus reacting to them once more with that precision he found so incomprehensible. But her voice had simultaneous a velvety undertone which lurked in her anxiety. It was alarming him. The call... of a humane Siren. Reaching out for his weakest spot – his fascination for her.  
The dragon felt how his corpus stiffened.  
When Cecilia sat down by his left side, the warm gaze of the jewel caught his attention.  
“I'm trusting you a lot. I know you will not leave me without informing me about your decision.” ,she began open-hearted, “And that's why I was worried about you when you weren't in the tavern. This city is the one place in Eorzea where dragons are in deadly danger. If residents should ever, EVER realize that you're no puppet... Midgard, I--- … Please, don't do solo-actions anymore here. Do whatever you like in the other places of Coerthas, but not in Ishgard.”  
Her request was so simple. And she did not even beg him brazen-faced like Erik had done before in Camp Dragonhead. Cecilia was not pleading for him to stay nonstop by her side. She only wanted, that he didn't wander around alone anymore – for his own sake. Not hers.  
His skin felt like gooseflesh under her right eye. The red iris which looked like a dim dragon-eye; framed by a golden circle. But a shiver ran down his spine, when he noticed the expression of her ice-blue, somewhat not humane iris. The crystal shone like a tiny sea – far away from normal eyes which mortal creatures possess, because suppressed tears couldn't reflect the light of a fire like this. The mirroring of an ordinary mortal would be yellow-red, while hers was white-blue. As if the sun stood directly over his beloved Silvertear Lake.  
“Thou... hast my word...” he whispered helpless; keeping barely a strange desperation down.  
Her emotions were effecting him a fortiori he saw this maddening crystal. All of her was calling out for him to lose the control over his adamantine will, but this eye did that at the most. He truthfully... wanted to ignore the draconic ways. He wanted to forget the sin mortals had committed. Her call – unimportant if she knew consciously about it or not – was strong; Cecilia's innocent sympathy for the dragon a magnet so large that it was painful to refuse it.  
Midgardsormr inhaled sharply, when she smiled shyly as a response to his promise.  
Brows furrowed, he couldn't look away from her face, as he noticed the slightly darkened color on her rosy cheeks. She tried to believe in his words – that was written all over her mien. And the hope which she gained from them made her minimal blush; a delicate view to behold.  
He didn't know, where he should position this girl in his ancient mind... She could be as reserved as his own kind – act in a similar way. But when her humane innocence emerged, Cecilia seemed to be a sensitive being who tried to believe into the good within every creature...  
Turning his head away; forcing himself to look at the fire, he felt once more that strong impulse. There was this urgent need to hold her face, although he didn't grasp, why he even hungered for it. Why he wanted to feel her skin under his 'hands'... Touching her like this would be nothing else but betraying all morale plus pride he owned.  
Glancing at the Au Ra, he noticed how she watched the chimney, too.  
Adult as she was, he couldn't claim now, that she would be directly a little daughter for him.  
All hidden tears had left the crystal – instead, the wish to believe into his promise glistered there. With this, he wavered, if he should be worried about her sensitive side or not. She seemed... strong. For a mortal creature, at least... For her own kind, she probably had a strong will.  
A loud knock on the chamber's door disturbed his thoughts.  
“Hey, Ceci, would you mind helping me a bit in the kitchen?” Erik's voice boomed into the room. Narrowing his lids, the dragon kept a snort down, while the maiden stood up. “Of course! Go ahead – I follow in a minute.” she replied cheerful. The Hyur gave a pleased 'Okay.' before he went away; leaving the Methuselah again alone with the archmage. While Cecilia threw a block of timber into the fire, Midgardsormr shook his body a little in order to mentally drop his puzzled sentiments. Afterwards, he flew gracefully onto her shoulder. The maiden grinned, when she noticed his weight, and caressed minimal with her right hand his ears.  
“You want to join me?” she asked friendly; the possibility clearly welcome to her.  
Nodding, the dragon stated veridical: “Albeit I am not hungry, I want to watch thy doing.” “Hehe, that's fine.” ,Cecilia giggled like a fairy, “But you should really try to eat more often, Midgard.” Sighing, he shook his head with closed lids about her soft complaint. “Thou will never give up, won't thee...” “Never.” she reassured promptly – a mischievous grin on her lips as she watched him in the second his eyes opened again. It was truly a delightful sight in his opinion...  
When she sought distracted for the doorknob, his long tail brushed unscheduled over her back.  
It made her blush a little – and resulting, him, too, because this meant she liked his touch.  
Gazing at the floor, the dragon stayed on her shoulder, when she walked to the kitchen.


	8. Chapter 8

# Chapter Eight

Nostrils wrinkled, he let his gazes roam over snowy desolation.  
The fiasco unfolding all around him looked even more pitiful under the grey sky.  
Western Coerthas had become a place that did not deserve the phrase 'winter-wonderland' at all. Because no signs of the former flora were left. Fields; trees; bushes--- almost all gone. It truthfully seemed like the wintriness was swallowing more and more the remaining memories of the times before the catastrophe five years ago. Even the animals he could detect in the distance resembled not the lively creatures which occupied this area in the past... They had a rough charisma thanks to their harsh territory... Bodies changed and adapted to the chilly environment...  
Humans living in this place were also not spared.  
The settlement which was named Falcon's Nest looked like a corrupted version of it's former self. Having seen it in the past, Midgardsormr could hardly believe, how less the original buildings were reconstructed by Ishgard's cavaliers plus laborers who had been tasked to support their neighbors. As if the inquisitors saw no other use in the village anymore, they had rather built a military base for their holy war instead of taking care of the residents' needs.  
Glancing at the reason for his or rather their presence in this place, he was rootedly relieved that Cecilia still couldn't be impressed by the title which her employer owned. Respectively: Erik and the other Warriors, too, did not give that much about a blinding rank.  
Artoirel Fortemps might act like the nobleman he was thanks to his heritage, yet it was very obvious he didn't think too positive about the adventurers. He conversed only minimal with them – mostly with Erik, as the Hyur was the leader of the small troop. And therefore, the mannerless man listened now to the assignment which Artoirel and – of all things – a Durendaire-knight had for this mission, while the other Warriors stood deedless around in Falcon's Nest.  
Midgardsormr couldn't help but feeling suspiciously when it came to house Durendaire...  
It was not directly a coercion, though, that the – for him meanwhile familiar – mortals were here... The Warriors of Light accompanied the elder son of Count Fortemps per will. Albeit the leader of the royal family had asked for demonstrating his successor the famous adventurer-benignity and -dedication, it was nevertheless merely a trivial plea. No official order. Neither house Durendaire nor Dzemael were expecting the anything from the group, above all, as they had only requested some support of house Fortemps.  
Furthermore, Edmont had even hesitated with his plea. The constant possibility, that heretics might be involved in the tasks awaiting in Western Coerthas, had been a reason for the Count to worry about his guests' safety. Fortemps' concern, in turn, was the final trigger for the adventurers to accept the quest, since their naive minds did not allow any risks for Artoirel as their patron's son. They saw only endangerment when it came to those who they wanted to support – not themselves. And notwithstanding that their humbleness was absolutely clear, the uppish son of the good Count had still not changed his reserved attitude towards them.  
Sometimes, mortal's foolishness knew no end.  
Clearing his nose with a sniff, the dragon felt chilly on Cecilia's Astrologian-globe.  
Snowflakes fell on his under-cooled corpus, wherefore he stood the weather even less.  
Noticing Erik's movement into Cecilia's direction, Midgardsormr figured out, that the leader wanted to instruct the current task to his companions. Thus, he stayed on the weapon, as he wanted to listen first of all to the speech, before he could think about seeking for shelter from the cold atmosphere. This indirect bustling activity was reflected by the rest of the adventurers, who gathered now with serious expressions around their boss. Tammy, Carlos, Bertram and Annika – somehow, the dragon recalled the Warrior's names meanwhile completely.  
For a moment, this discovery made his head slightly quake in wonderment.  
Erik began to comment on the job. There existed not many details about it, though, as the mortals were mostly here because of some rumors. Allegedly, Lady Iceheart had been spotted a while ago, when a Dzemael-knight had chased a few bandits. The activities of heretics in this area were additionally increasing since a while, so it might be possible that a camp of them existed somewhere in Western Coerthas – the major-base, perhaps.  
With this information, the Warriors were tasked to accompany Artoirel and a few other knights on the search for traces of heretical activities nearby Falcon's Nest. For now, the adventurers should search northwards of the settlement, while the others would look westward.

It was hard to acclimate, when the wind blew harsher onto his body.  
Midgardsormr hid his corpus under Cecilia's robe; the hilarious big eyes glancing out of the brink. Full of discontent, his irises glowed in bright red. He noticed her worried gazes, when she looked now and then at him, albeit she should better watch out whereto she conducted her Chocobo. Obviously, Erik thought the same, because he shouted over his left shoulder: “Ceci, your puppet can hardly become an ice-block just because of a little breeze, but Edgar can't act like an autopilot in this area which he does not know yet. Don't you agree?”  
She nodded embarrassed: “I'm sorry... It's not like I want him to get more hurt than necessary...” Considering, that she had made for the white bird a winter-coat he wore now, his tender 'Kweeeeeh.' demonstrated how much Edgar cherished her worry about his temperature. The gruff 'big brother', on the other hand, seemed not to be pleased by her apology. “That's not what I wanted to hear! When we bear in mind, that he's practically a gift of mine for you, he should be your top-priority while you 'cruise' around with him. Can't believe I must tell you that! And--- OHA.”  
Pointing out at something in the distance, the Marauder said: “Looks like somebody got trouble.” Accelerating the speed of his soot-black Chocobo, Erik rushed forward, so that the other Warriors could hardly catch up. But this seemed to be no moment too early, as Erik's eyes proofed to be right. An injured Durendaire-knight cowered barely conscious over the ground in the grim ice-desert; bleeding from several stab-wounds in arms, legs and even stomach. Cecilia and Annika dismounted as the first ones their Chocobos, as they began instantly to heal the injuries.  
Of necessity, the dragon left the robe – yet he clung to the maiden in another way. Unable to endure the weather by the minimal warmth his own corpus could create, he had no other choice left. Although... There existed at least a bit distraction from his discontent.  
It was always a miracle to behold from her shoulder, how talented the Au Ra was... No matter, which kind of healer she might be in a specific moment. Though the Lalafell was also remarkably skilled when it came to the Whitemagic she possessed. It was surely Annika's area of expertise.  
The faint sound of hooves hitting the snow filled the air suddenly.  
“What happened to you? Were you attacked by bandits or even heretics?” Artoirel asked the knight in the very second his horse appeared in audible reach. Erik stared for a moment at the Elezen with such a cold expression in the steel-blue eyes, as if he wanted to behead the business-driven snob, but he kept his rough manners partly down. So, all he said was: “You can interrogate him AFTER we put him onto your horse, Monsieur Fortemps.” “Understood.” the royal-son replied frigid with offended gazes at Erik's face and lowered corners of the mouth.  
When the knight sat behind Artoirel, he confirmed the suspicion of the heretics.  
“I was just on my routinely patrol.” ,the cavalier croaked with a weak voice, “When I bumped into several hooded men, I wanted to check them – a bunch of bandits had yesterday robbed a merchant, again, so it's my duty to be careful with strangers. They acted at first harmless, but then I noticed these equivocal amulets... When I said blue-eyed 'heretics', I felt their swords in my flesh.”  
Nodding, the nobleman said: “We will find them. Erik, I entrust you and your companions for now with the task of searching for clues, wherever the heretics could have vanished. I will join you later once this good man can rest in a sickbed. The other knights may surely catch up with you.” “Got it.” ,the Hyur responded short-spoken, before he addressed the injured, “Take one week vacation or so, buddy. You're lucky we accidentally found you. Things could have ended otherwise pretty bad.”  
The knight smiled grateful, while Artoirel beheld Erik one last time with a stony expression.  
When Count Fortemps' oldest son guided his horse swiftly into the direction of Falcon's Nest, Midgardsormr found it hard to believe, that this Elezen and Haurchefant shared partly their roots.

The temperature seemed to drop even more.  
A little bit, the dragon envied the wounded soldier because of the current circumstances.  
While that man would soon lay under a comfortable blanket in a warm room, he was still exposed to the frosty air plus falling snow. And presumably, this fact would not change for the next hours, since he knew the stubbornness of the Warriors too well...  
“We should split up.” ,Erik suggested meditative when the humans climbed onto their Chocobos, “If the weather doesn't become better, we won't find footsteps in the snow. Or in general any hints. They''ll vanish a fortiori the flakes fall down.” “Splitting up might be the most effective method, yes, but what if one of us gets attacked like the Durendaire-knight?” Carlos questioned skeptical.  
“We're strong and smart enough to avoid injuries, don't you think?” a counter-question followed. The Blackmage-Elezen seemed not entirely convinced. “This would mean you rely on pure luck.” “I rely on the capabilities we all own – and the certainty that we can phone each other per linkshell if one of us stumbles into honest trouble.” the Hyur replied sternly.  
The two man eyeballed each other with severe gazes.  
Chuckling, Bertram said: “Come on now, guys. Don't fight your friends, aye? There are plenty of heretics around for clobbering into the ground – if you insist on letting frustration out.” The Paladin was usually a sunshiny person – and this argument did not darken the Roegadyn's mood at all.  
Tammy agreed with him: “Yeah, save your anger for the schnooks. Or, when we're back in Ishgard, you could try to grab Estinien. I bet he would enjoy a buddy-fight a lot.” “Will not happen, thanks.” ,Carlos negated disgusted, “I rather entrust a dubiously, hooded society in a dark forest with my life instead of spending superfluously time with my grand-cousin.”  
After these words were spoken, the Elezen let his dark-grey Chocobo run away.  
“Uhm, looks like we stick now to the splitting-plan.” ,Annika noticed and scratched her left cheek, “But I think Carlos and Estinien should do something about their relation.” “Yepp... But you're surely not the last person to say that.” the Hyur added – shrugging minimal, when the Lalafell gazed with a sobered expression at him. Cecilia and Tammy tried to cheer her with shoulder-patting up, albeit Annika folded her arms in an indignant way. “Carlos is an idiot...” she grumbled.  
“You can discuss that later.” ,the leader ordered, “Let's go now.”  
Then, Erik spurred his Chocobo into another direction than Carlos was vanished before – the sign for the others to follow their examples. Simultaneous, the remaining four Warriors swarmed into different angles apart; all birds running at their maximum speed. Midgardsormr squinted his eyes because of the pace, as the snow was directly flying into his sensitive irises. Howbeit he felt good whenever the blunt Hyur was not around, he wasn't glad about Edgar heading to the North while more and more snowflakes dashed to the ground.  
After a while, Cecilia said: “Sheesh, it's no use... The view becomes too limited now.”  
The dragon wanted to ask her, what she wanted to adumbrate with these words, but couldn't move his freezing muzzle under a sharp gust. Instead, he watched, how she slowed her Chocobo down. Walking unhurried over the white ice-powder, Edgar carried them to the frontier of something that looked like a forsaken farm-land.  
Next to a fence, Cecilia's corpus twitched suddenly. “Wait a moment.” she said, before she slowly dismounted her bird – letting the dragon time to climb onto Edgar's neck before she left the saddle. He couldn't stay any longer on her shoulder, as he needed more distinct guard from the cold...  
Kneeling down, her hands glided careful into a small, flat hole, which had been probably made before the snowstorm emerged. A wide grin spread over her face, when she found other dimples next to the first one. “Ah-ha, I haven't failed.” ,the Astrologian said muted and stood determined up, “There ARE indeed some footprints which the snow hasn't entirely covered.”  
When she gazed at him, Midgardsormr nodded minimal, before he flew to her. It was embarrassing, yet he slipped again under her robe; unable to stand the storm without the pleasant heat of hers. “Freezing again?” she asked tenderly, though she must know that he didn't plan to reply – or rather, could not answer to her question. But her considerate gesture was anyway welcome to the dragon, so he leaned his head for a moment against her thigh.  
She began pacing over the snowy farm-area – Edgar followed her like a big shadow.  
As the dragon glanced like before out of the brink, he noticed a big house in front of them. Perhaps, this had been a lively place in the past. Where those mortals who economized this land were enjoying their downtime together; cooking, eating, talking and sleeping side by side.  
Albeit the building didn't look as forsaken as the rest of this farm...  
Four humans stood sentinel next to the wooden door; conversing innocently.  
The dragon jerked in wonderment, when Cecilia approached them directly instead of sneaking around the house. Her soft voice rose for a friendly greeting: “Hello gentlemen. Quite lonely here in the wilderness, don't you agree?” Her hands were loosely folded behind her back, when she came unusual close to the confused strangers. No hint of uptightness lay in her doing. But the four guards, on the contrary, were alarmed. They all wore heretic-amulets on their chests.  
The maiden studied patiently these half puzzled, half hostile faces.  
In spite of her guileless behavior, she had obviously waited for an attack. Amongst the second they grabbed their swords and lances, she dodged instantly the subsequent assault. “I won't kill you.” ,she declared calmly while she outflung her globe, “Hence, you all should better act peacefully when I handcuff you guys. My darling reacts allergic to persons who try to stab me.”  
This turned out to be a keyword, as the Chocobo kicked one heretic extra harsh when aforesaid man swung his weapon into the maiden's direction. A strong peck followed. In fact, Edgar was a perfect combat-partner for her, as his rough force matched her magic fluently. Also, she healed the bird instantly when he got injured, so that he could attack without hesitation.  
The duo knocked the recalcitrant men quickly out.  
With a thick cord, Cecilia tied them up to each other; fettering their feet with additional tows, wherefore they would not been able to walk away if they should wake up later. Done with her work, the Au Ra strolled unhurried into the building – barely making a sound when she opened the door. Looking inside, she and Midgardsormr noticed at first a few messily stables on the left side. Opposite to the entrance, a corridor led to a staircase. And on the right side, three additional heretics jumped up from their seats when Cecilia made willingly a loud step on the ground.  
“You're awfully inattentive as security-guards...” ,she stated down-to-earth; earnestly reprehensive, “I bet I could sneak behind you and slit your throats with my Astrology-cards if I wanted this.” Midgardsormr felt gooseflesh developing on his skin when her cold words went through his ears. Thus, he was glad she sighed following with an intensity that revealed, how less she wanted to fight these humans in truth. Edgar right behind her, however, seemed to enjoy the next round clearly, although he couldn't move too much around in the room.  
Beating two of the three opponents was no challenge at all; the last heretic in return was at least a skilled fighter despite his depauperate acuesthesia. His serrated lance kept Edgar on distance – making it hard for the bird to near his target. Avoiding the sharp metal seemed to be troublesome for the Chocobo because of the stables next to him... He ducked the head several moments, as there was no space left to go when the lance came threatening close to his face.  
But this was not the only problem.  
Cecilia might fire her Astrologian-magic at the heretic, which was indeed successful, yet this alone couldn't knock him out. Her enemy seemed to be resistant to her blows. Even a specific attack, which should normally weaken it's victim over the time, did not seem to have any effect.  
As her attacks were almost piffling in his eyes, the man focused on Edgar. The bird fought bravely, albeit it was clear his condition was only acceptable because the maiden healed him. In this room, he wasn't able to kick precisely like he had done before; a great disadvantage.  
Suddenly, Cecilia sprinted without a warning to the heretic; dodging the lance easily, as she was too close to him. With a ably move of her free hand, she slapped the weapon out of the heretic's hold. When the lance slid over the floor, Edgar reacted fast as a flash and kicked the heretic frontal into the stomach. It was a miracle, though, that the opponent could still stand on his feet.  
Quickly, he dived for his weapon – surely ready to slay the bird.  
But right in the moment he stood up, Cecilia stepped instantly behind him. With a slightly frustrated facial expression, she slammed her Astrology-globe over his head. The object was made of metal, so it must create enough headache to ruin the heretic's balance. Which she and her animal proofed, when the man couldn't even scratch them anymore while he spun wildly the weapon around. Capitalizing aforesaid handicap without hesitation, a concerted peck reached it's goal once more in the stomach, as the lance's next blow fell short of Edgar, too.  
This attack of the bird was enough to bring the heretic to the ground; the following Chocobo-kick finally enough to throw the foe into the world of dreams.  
Out of breath, Edgar stood harshly panting next to the maiden, when she handcuffed the heretics with thick tows just like she had done before to their allies outside of the building.  
“You stay better here and take a break.” Cecilia suggested while gazing at her Chocobo with worried eyes. Edgar fluffed indignantly his plumage up as a reaction to her request; making angrily 'Kweeeh!'-tones and shaking manifold his head. Amongst his complaint, however, he stumbled. Obviously, he felt dizzy after the fight. But all rationality the bird owned succumbed clearly enough his affection for the maiden.  
“It's no plea, if you do not cooperate. It's an order in this case. So behave well-mannered.” she said with a sharp pitch in the muted voice. Edgar opened his beak for protest – however, no sound escaped the bird's throat under the archmage's gaze. Unwillingly, the bird sat down on the floor; signaling, that he would not leave this spot until she allowed it. Albeit he acted a bit like a rebel, when he plucked a strand of hair out of the heretic-skull next to him.  
“Let them unconscious, please.” she sighed and shook her head resigned. Then, Cecilia walked to the staircase, where she eyeballed skeptical the steps leading down to the cellar. She seemed to have a bad feeling about it – a feeling the dragon shared instantly.

There was no furniture in the big room at the end of the staircase.  
No wide shelves for preserved nutriment stood there. No farming-tools or -machines leaned against the walls anywhere. No fodder for animals was stored in the chamber's corners. There weren't even several stools or desks – or anything which could demonstrate that people lived here.  
Only a single object was left in the room's most distant wall.  
Midgardsormr raised his brows in wonderment as he regarded it exhaustive.  
For a long time... he hadn't seen such a statue... The one standing next to Sohm Al was burned down by his own descendants; at least half of it. All the other exemplars in the Churning Mists were entirely destructed by them. But not that mortals were any better... In fact he had already believed, the humans would have destroyed all replicas they owned of this symbol...  
The love of Hraesvelgr and the mortal Shiva.  
It was a picture the people of Ishgard had drawn as well as sculptured endlessly in the far away past for demonstrating, how dear they held the peace which the couple had created.  
To see now an intact version of it dumbfounded him deeply.  
In his astonishment, he noticed only now, that an Elezen-woman knelt before the item; praying to it. And seemingly, Cecilia did not dare to interrupt this supplication, as she stood motionless there – watching silently. Because of her reaction, he wondered, if she did even know this statue. So much, how she wished for peace between humans and dragons, he would not be surprised, if she was aware of the reason why the heretics rebelled against their Holy City... Their leader – this praying woman here – did preach a shard of the denied truth.  
When the Elezen's folded hands sank down, the Au Ra became lively again.  
Cecilia stepped slowly into the chamber – eyes not leaving the woman. “Ysayle.” she said lowly like the whisper of a soft breeze. The tune was deeper than usual, albeit he couldn't grasp, why. Perhaps the maiden was... sad...? But if so, he did not know her reason.  
The heretic's leader stood up and eyeballed skeptical the mage for a moment over the left shoulder. Obviously, they knew each other... Their body-languages revealed a clear recognition, which he had not watched before; considering the other heretics. However, these young women here were definitely no friends – nor well-disposed acquaintances, when it came to the Elezen.  
When she turned finally around to her 'guest', an almost insulting question came from the grey lips: “Have you still not given up to pursue me?” Lady Iceheart sounded a bit too harsh – it was similar to a threat or at least a notedly warning. But as the dragon had once 'seen' her, he knew certainly, that it would be wrong if she attacked Cecilia now.  
They were two of a kind, in the end.  
So, he broke his own rule to not interfere in the maiden's interaction with others.  
He slipped out of the robe; flying next to the archmage in a protective manner. This single dispute, he would never allow to happen; even under the circumstances, that he had to betray his principles. Probably he would later suffer under his action like he had done before in Ul'dah – when he burnt that atrocious Lalafell... But at least he did not see red now. It was a deliberate choice.  
Forthright, he spoke to Lady Iceheart: “The mortal who could take a glance at the truth...”  
Ysayle dilated her light-grey eyes when she heard his calm, deep voice. Gaping at him unassertive, she asked breathless: “Are you the one... who I think you could be...?” A silent, suppressed chuckle rolled in his throat. So she recalled him from her visions. Very good. “Yes. She came to me, just like thou did. The two of thee possess the same talent, but thy destinies could not be more different. Thou art mysterious creatures...”  
His short explanation was all Lady Iceheart seemed to have needed. Because she beheld Cecilia abruptly with a strong respect in the bright irises. All animosity was gone from the crystalline grey. But of course... She knew thanks to her Echo, that he had been slumbering in the embrace of death. Not even the Garlean soldiers nor their machines were in the past able to wake him with their noise. So, when he accompanied suddenly this maiden instead of sleeping... it meant she was much more than a gifted being. Instead, she was a favorite of Her grace. One of Hydaelyns most precious... rather blessed chosen mortals. A child worth protecting.  
Ysayle relaxed visibly, when this knowledge reached her mind.  
“If HE accompanies you... I suppose I could try to trust you. After all, there do exist rumors about an adventurer-magician who does not harm dragons at all... No matter what happens. So tell me: You are this mage, am I correct?” the Elezen asked cautiously. Cecilia nodded with closed lids, before she gazed directly with her odd-colored eyes into the heretic's exemplars. These open windows to her soul were calling silently for Lady Iceheart to believe into her wish for peace; Midgardsormr could feel the familiar patience which had been captivating him since a while, too. This charisma of an innocent, pure adult was like a mixture of several addictive drugs... He saw the Elezen's tentativeness, naturally, but no mortal being would be able to resist this Raen truthfully, when an ancient dragon was not even able to do this miracle.  
And he was right to expect Lady Iceheart's mental defeat.  
Ysayle confirmed his statement straightforward. She talked willingly about her gift – letting Cecilia even listen to the very beginning of her life as a heretic. How she lost her family to the ice which spread over Western Coerthas after the catastrophe five years ago. How she fled alone to Dravania; looking for a place to recover. Everything she had known until then had changed as she met one of the First Brood – Hraesvelgr – who told her indirectly via visions the truth about the dragon-war. Since then, she fought for harmony between men and dragons as well as against the wrong believe of Ishgard's people, even if her path was a violent one.  
When the last words left Ysayle's mouth, Cecilia's face became gloomy.  
“Are you aware of the fact... that unblamable lives had to suffer under the actions of the heretics...? Not only soldiers exist in Ishgard... Not all of the citizens are Inquisitors... The poor, the homeless and at the most the KIDS have to endure lots of pain – caused by Vishap's attack. And this happened in turn thanks to you guys. Hopefully you do not expect me to rejoice in that 'master-plan'.”  
Her voice was muted, but Cecilia's words were sharp as a blade. She outmatched Erik right now...  
The face of her conversational-partner became a dolorous mask. “I know, I know...!” ,Ysayle said, “It shouldn't have gone so far. It should not even have been like this... That the people of Ishgard detest dragons is not their own fault... We learned to hate already as babies; the hatred was instilled into us from the first second of our existence. And that it's noble to die while fighting a dragon.”  
The human's misdeed grieved Lady Iceheart deeply. It was a true, strong sentiment.  
Indeed... All people of the new generations were taught from the very beginning, how 'cruel' and 'brute' dragons were. They just learned to hate 'pangolins'... Had never known another way.  
“The dragons returned the animus notwithstanding that they knew about their true enemy's end.” ,Ysayle uttered suddenly, “Albeit their real foe was perished long ago, they still condemn us mortals for our ancestor's sins.” Sighing, the Elezen looked directly at Midgardsormr, when she had finished her ramshackle explanation. She seemed to be unsettled, if her words went against his will.  
“Thy knowledge is lost so quickly...” ,he murmured while examining the heretic, “Only a piece of it will be passed down to thy children. Descendants. We dragons, in contrast, continue to exist... and with us the memorization. How much wrath and disdain developed in all the centuries, thou won't be able to understand.”

Cecilia stomped suddenly on the floor.  
It was a loud sound – surprising both him and Lady Iceheart.  
“If you ask me, this all sounds like a nursery-incident.” the maiden said; gazes anger-filled.  
Ysayle regarded her with sorrow-stricken eyes. “I am sorry that you got involved into our war, but... There's nothing we could do to change the past. Not even we gifted humans with our Echo...” “Surely, but we have a fraction of stubborn creatures who want to extirpate Ishgard's people for something which the humans nowadays haven't done! It's as moronic as an argument of toddlers! When a child's brother does something wrong, would it be fair to punish aforesaid kid, too? No! Same goes for this situation. And I find it more and more unbelievable how ANCIENT DRAGONS can BEHAVE like a TROOP OF INFANTS without realizing THEIR OWN mistake!”  
While Lady Iceheart was irritated by Cecilia's outburst, Midgardsormr quivered.  
This enragement... It was on a personal level. He did not grasp, why she felt this way, but he saw, which indignation their conversation had caused. The Raen was desperate, yet she was furious. Cecilia acted like a big sister who had learned about a siblings' misconduct. Or rather, she FELT emotions which matched this example perfectly.  
Lowering her head, Ysayle shrived quietly: “I will do penance for my sins... Yes, I have sinned – not even the holy Halone can save me anymore. But I will finish, what I have started, and finally, bring this land it's well-deserved peace. Because I am no longer only myself. I am also Saint Shiva; the one who once loved a dragon...”  
The Elezen beheld Cecilia directly – determination clearly visible in the grey eyes as they searched for the adventurer. There would be nothing left to stop her but her own death; she wanted the Au Ra to know this. Probably, she even wanted to calculate, how honest an adventurer's wish could be, when dragons were involved in the center of a problem. But relief glimpsed in Lady Iceheart's eyes, as she did not find any hostility in Cecilia's face.  
Grateful, the heretic's leader smiled gently, before she teleported away. Leaving the dragon alone with his strange companion. And for an unknown reason, Midgardsormr regretted it deeply, because this new facet of the Au Ra's personality did partly frighten him. Exposed to her 'sense of justice', nothing would distract her from letting him feel her terror...  
But in fact, nothing happened.  
Cecilia glanced motionless at the statue for a longer moment. Then, she closed sighing her eyelids; not directly in a peaceful manner, yet worn out enough to not incriminate him. Her left arm glided over her neutral face when she mumbled: “I really am silly... She must be scared now...”  
Furrowing his brows, Midgardsormr studied the girl. “What do these words mean...?” he asked; dumbfounded by her statement. “She knows I will imprison the heretics who sentinelled this house. So, how – do you think – was the impression she obtained, when I cursed loudly those who she tries to protect from any harm? Because I was doing that when I accused the dragons of irascibility.”  
Chuckling helpless, the Methuselah looked at the ground. “I do not recall thee using any words which referred to violent fit of temper. I only saw, how she experienced relief when thy wrath subsided despite the potential prospect of abandoning thy wish.”  
Her arm made room for her open irises. “Do you think I would give my dream of peace up...?” Unhurried, he studied these eyes in different colors. Meanwhile, her limb sank completely down; letting him see these rosy lips which bent down slightly in sadness. As he was foggy-brained by Cecilia's emotional-hurt whisper, he flew closer to her face under the additional visibleness of pain. Midgardsormr might experience this side of hers since a while, but still he was weak against it...  
Eyelids partly sunken, he stared into the doleful mirrors.  
“I doubt thou would give thy dream up...” he whispered eventually.  
Then – without thinking about it – his right 'hand' brushed over her petal-lips.  
He petrified in the second he realized his doing. But his 'fingers' stayed where they were; absorbing the feeling of her soft skin. Caused by this touch, she blushed apparitional, yet her eyes told him, how glad she was about his opinion. “You trust me at least in this point truthfully.” she susurrated. While she spoke, he could feel her warm breath all over his tiny corpus; felt a shy smile emerge firsthand under his physical contact to her.  
Frowning, the dragon shivered, as both the touch and her statement over-strained him.  
Was he blindly trusting into her wish? Had he honestly reached the frontier, when he was too weak to keep up his natural distrust into all mortals – including her? Was her innocence alone so strong, that he would make aloud a concession to her...? A single time...?  
“I... I do...” he confirmed almost not audible, while his 'fingers' glided slowly down to her chin.  
Sighing resigned, the dragon held the rose-colored flesh carefully with the small tips of his 'hands'; looking into her eyes without a break. For a moment, he could not stop his instincts, so he caressed with the pressure of the wings of a hummingbird the maiden – at first the chin, than the lips.  
She lost all diffident joy visibly since he had assured her of his opinion, but in the moment he acted like being under a spell, it worked also vice versa. As if she was caught in a trance, she kept completely still under his 'fingertips'; her breath shallow to a point where it was not recognizable. However, her lower lip trembled like a tiny quake, when he intensified the pressure on it.  
Unintentional forcing Cecilia, the dragon made her parting the rosy lips a little. Where her mouth had been shut before, the area glistered moist in the minimal illumination of this cellar. Similar to the nectar of a bloom... His 'index-finger' sought cautiously for it, albeit he knew it looked like another 'assault' of a Methuselah to hoax a young being...  
Inwardly grunting, he cursed himself, that he couldn't control these sentiments properly... Disappointment would be his proper punishment for the lack of manners – hers and his own... Cecilia would condemn him for 'toying around', while he should disdain his irrationality.  
But still, the 'fingertip' glided over the moistness. Still, his own trance lasted, as he explored the small space between her lips. The air left and entered his lungs uneasy, when he lightly plunged into the gap; completely unhindered, so that he tapped minimal against her separated teeth.  
His heartbeat seemed to have stopped before, because it hammered suddenly loudly in his chest. Stronger as he was used to it, too – hence, he became nervous. Mostly, when he felt her lips moving unwittingly on his skin, so that it almost looked like he wasn't the only hopeless case here...  
When he finally withdrew from the mage, her right hand sought for his own.  
And mentally weak as he was right now, nothing prevented his reflexes from answering.  
Palm on palm, he gazed helpless onto her facial mien, which was colored in a darker rose-hue. Ah... The strange longing he often enough recognized within his consciousness flowed powerful through his mind – reflected by the windows in front of him. All over his face was the desperation written, to be kept in shackles when it came to this magnetic pull...  
The addiction that was not allowed to break free.  
He did not know, as what he would label her if she had been a dragon, but only the fact mattered that she was a mortal. And so, Cecilia would never be like a daughter for him – or anything else... His inner chains held him therefore back from giving entirely in to his sympathy. He had to stop before it was too late.  
Squinting his eyes, he clenched his jaw; the 'hand' becoming a fist on her palm.  
“What is wrong...?” her muted voice caressed his ears. Glancing at Cecilia, he did notice the worry his behavior had caused. But he was not in the position to ease it. “Nothing.” the dragon answered and retired from her; irises glowing red as he reminded himself of the reason for his refusal.  
She examined him for a short moment. Her eyes were deeply sad.  
But then, she turned with a stony expression away from him.  
“I'm glad to be no excessive-complicated dragon.” ,an icy undertone dwelt in her sharp words, “And now, if you excuse me, I will look after my darling Edgar. We have heretics laying around who need to be handed over to the knights.”  
She went up the staircase; left him behind in the cellar.  
The stinging glow of his eyes died as her first sentence echoed through his head.  
Looking at the old statue, Midgardsormr breathed shakily out. What a fool he was...  
Flying to the sculptured image of his son, he tipped helpless against the three-dimensional picture. “Thou hast loved a mortal woman and never regretted it... Not even when thou hast turned thy back on humankind... Thy Shiva is still dear to thee... I wonder how I should maintain the friendship to my companion, when I do not even know what I see in her... She, on the other hand, seems to find my hesitation and nescience disturbing... Aaah... I am afraid she was rather doomed than blessed when Her grace decided to lead her to me...”  
Groaning intensely, the dragon leaned his head backwards with closed eyes.

“Emmanellain did what...?!” the irritated voices of two mortals boomed in his ears.  
Shutting the right lid down, the left eye glared in stinging red color at Cecilia and her personal fan. Absurdly, these creatures were already on the personal level of uttering exactly the same words... Not to mention their combined noise... Slightly unfolding his wings, Midgardsormr prepared for leaving the Astrology-globe in case they should react once more in a noisy manner.  
“He was told to NOT leave the area...! How could he suppose to be strong enough for a solo-patrol? I know he wants to impress my friend, but Laniaitte would never agree to such rashness... If none of the Rose Knights has seen him, we can expect the worst possibility...” Haurchefant added appalled. Considering this aghast face, it was not the first time his young half-brother did a carefree misstep... Albeit it might be a novelty considering the environment. Abalathia.  
Looking guiltily at the ground, the young pageboy of aforesaid Emmanellain nodded gloomy.  
“I will find my Master before anything bad could happen to him. It is my fault that he wandered off by himself, so I must be the one to bring him back no matter what it takes.” the child spoke with a steady voice. Before Cecilia or the Fortemps-knight were able to stop him, Honoroit ran away; quicker than a flash.  
Petrified by the boy's loyalty, they all stared into space for a moment.  
Then, Haurchefant sighed: “I must apologize... I hadn't expected the typical chaos next to Laniaitte. Since house Haillenarte does monitor the Sea of Clouds, I thought my brother would behave well while following his tasks... Since he has an eye on her, it would have been just logical to listen to Laniaitte's orders... But seemingly I was wrong... Well, that's the fair punishment for my selfishness to invite you. I shouldn't have taken you away from your 'brother'.”  
The Raen shook her head when the knight looked with a poutful expression at her.  
“Erik does accompany Artoirel once more.” ,she explained, “After he had yesterday also discovered such a staging-post of the heretics in the North-West, your older brother decided to include our boss into a little elite-troop. And you know Erik... When one day was a success, he's eager to repeat that in the next day. His work-morale relies on pride. At least mostly, as long as he's a bit motivated... So, we other Warriors have only been tasked by our leader to do something useful for anybody. Choosing your offering was an easy decision, therefore.”  
The Elezen smiled brightly, when she bestowed a bold grin upon him.  
As the two went into the direction Honoroit was vanished, Midgardsormr glanced at the maiden.  
Still, he was abashed, that she had played yesterday into the hands of the wicked plan he had eavesdropped before... Handing these seven heretics directly out to the Durendaire-knights could either cause an endless imprisonment for the 'traitors' OR a short, violent judgment – and the Au Ra knew this pretty well. Albeit he hadn't given her the information he knew...  
Considering the fact, how she had told four heretics, they wouldn't die by her hands, the Methuselah found her mercy rather cruel than laudable. Perhaps she would have shown more sensitivity – rather more pity for them via a quick end instead of this false benignity...  
But on the other hand... She had not stopped Ysayle. Lady Iceheart was yet free.  
It was hard for him to understand Cecilia's motivation. Why she had made a difference...  
Was it just empathy? As the heretic's leader was a gifted child, too? But Cecilia was no awestruck, god-fearing mortal who would easily follow an unwritten order... That much he had grasped about this strange archmage. She would not jump just because a higher force wanted this.  
The two companions encountered three patrolling Haillenarte-knights.  
Haurchefant explained quickly the situation – afterwards, one of the Elezen noted, that he supposed to have seen a boy running into the direction of the nearby Vanu-settlement. Mistaking the view for a hallucination, however, he had not informed his allies. The Fortemps-son ground loudly his teeth; stated, that he had feared this possibility. But it couldn't be helped anymore. Honoroit was not able to rescue Emmanellain alone, wherefore the child needed support.  
Laniaitte's soldiers aggreed to the mission, albeit they wondered about Haurchefant's little brother. Snorting, the Fortemps-knight replied, that his brother would deserve the Vanu's judgment for waltzing into their domain, if he wouldn't be just an innocent head-in-the-clouds-personality.  
Together, the five mortals traveled to the frontier of the beast-tribe's area.  
Avoiding a few of the birdmen, they stopped next to a long bridge made of wood.  
“From here on, we have to operate fast and goal-orientated. Behind this path lays their settlement, so we will fight them no matter where we go. The Vanu are strong combatants despite their clumsy dancing around within a battle.” the largest knight stated. “And they do not accept compromises...” a child's voice added suddenly.  
“Honoroit! Praise Halone, you are save!” The Fortemps-son went to the guilt-consumed boy and knelt down in order to examine him. “Are you not hurt? Is everything alright?” Haurchefant asked worried, but no answer followed. The child stared motionless down at his feet; the eyelids did only constrict themselves a little.  
Sighing, Cecilia stepped closer to them.  
“Considering his expression, I would say 'No.' – although it's rather emotional than physical ache.” Her audible pity made the pageboy look with purest grief at her: “I... am sorry, that my master causes trouble for you all. Please do forgive me...” The Au Ra chuckled lightly and patted Honoroit's head gently. “You shouldn't place the fault on yourself. Nobody can blame a servant for his master's missteps.” “Lady Cecilia...” the boy whispered awestruck.  
One of the Haillenarte-knights breathed loudly in – ready to say something, but the maiden reacted instantly to that. She glanced at the Elezen with harsh eyes, which seemed indeed intimidating. And when Haurchefant joined the evil staring at once, the foreign soldier lowered ashamed of himself the head. Watching this moment, it was in the eyes of the Methuselah almost like beholding two mortal parents defending their child.  
Honoroit hadn't noticed this occurring, wherefore he said determined: “The Vanu want to execute master Emmanellain, but their judge has not yet arrived. If we are quick enough, we can rescue him before too many of the birdmen gather around the plaza where they keep him.” “Sounds like an unique chance.” ,Haurchefant uttered with a serious face, “We should take it as long as we can. Let's save my brother.” The Haillenarte-knights and Cecilia nodded resolute.

The six mortals stormed into the settlement.  
Crossing the bridge, they knocked three guards out; four other Vanu followed along the trail.  
While the knights attacked the foes with their swords, shields and bows, Cecilia healed her allies whenever it was necessary. Albeit she let no chance pass by to prevent the enemies from causing any harm. The Raen threw her magic like tiny meteors – never missing her targets. One should get accustomed to this aggressive Astrologian quite quickly, as she acted like that also as a Whitemage. In other words, she was famous for shielding her companions. But...  
It was still strange to behold a healer who was so... ruthless in such a specific manner. Midgardsormr wondered, if the humans were nowadays all like that when they decided to become a Conjurer or something similar... Because in the past – when he was still cherishing his relations to mortals – none would have used offensive spells in the role of a healer on such dicey missions...  
Emmanellain was fettered when the men reached him.  
Sitting helpless on greenest grass, the Fortemps-son was sentinelled by two Vanu-mages. Two brave Thaumaturges with strong magic. Yet, they did not know a single healing-ability. It was therefore an easy task for the knights to take the watchers by surprise. All their following spells were ineffective because of Cecilia's presence, so they couldn't backfire the intruders.  
But despite their defeat, they were smart birds. They had taken Emmanellain's weapons away, wherefore the young man was unarmed except the armor he wore. Even unshackled, the defenseless of a child hung over his head. And he lowered aforesaid one – demonstrating how ashamed he was. Surely he owned not the courage to fight with bare hands... At least in this case, one must marvel the Warrior's leader, as Erik would even bite opponents if nothing else worked anymore.  
“Haurchefant, Cecilia, Honoroit... I... I am sorry...” the spoiled boy uttered. “You have later time for apologizing properly.” ,his older half-brother scolded with a severe expression, “For now, we all must get away from here! The Vanu have already noticed our presence.” “Yeah... And you can rely on their superior-number. They crush us if we dare to stay.” the Au Ra added icily.  
Midgardsormr raised his brows when he recognized the harsh, foreign pitch in her voice.  
He was even more surprised, when she grabbed Emmanellain's wrist; dragging the Elezen with her as she went ahead. The adults and Honoroit caught easily up, albeit one of the Haillenarte-knights tried to keep a few Vanu in the distance at bay. It was the same with Cecilia, who fired yellow stars with her free hand. Swift magic that did not need a moment of casting. In her doing lay anger...  
Somehow, she appeared frustrated. Her eyes had this stinging expression...  
Albeit he tried to grasp it, the dragon on her shoulder possessed no knowledge about the cause for this sudden change of mood. He felt only – like he did now at a few times – that he was missing many details of her personal background. Aspects of her past, in other words. Reasons for her to act the way she did. Thus, he wondered, if their situation was maybe the other way round... Not he, Midgardsormr, the one, who distrusted at the most...  
Until the bridge, the mortals could gain a bit space to their haunters.  
But then, the untrained Emmanellain lacked noticeably stamina. Hence they lost speed as they went over the wooden object. And when Honoroit became slower, too, the Vanu came once more closer. Amongst them was a birdman dressed in the garment of a summoner... He was obviously the one who leaded the other Vanu. The sachem of this tribe...  
Suddenly, the floating island on which they all stood trembled remarkable.  
Plus, as if that alone wasn't enough, a huge whale emerged from the mists beneath them.  
“Bismarck, white god, lord of the clouds!” the chief said reverential. Gazing skeptical at the being, the humans seemed to be aware of the possible danger. “Is that... a flying whale?! Don't tell me... He's a Primal?!” Haurchefant asked with a serious expression. A short side-glance at Cecilia seemed to be enough explanation for him, because he frowned after he had seen her angered face.  
Emmanellain gulped: “How are we supposed to fight the Vanu and that... THING!?” “At any rate: Not at all when you act like a fraidy-cat.” the Raen hissed and stepped before the Fortemps-son. This seemed to impress the Elezen a lot, because pure surprise glided over his face.  
She was willing to shield once more somebody--- Midgardsormr was still not used to that. A healer. A magician. A being without an armor. Acting like a defender. Like a tank. Could it be, that she was not as fragile as he thought since the moment she had woken him up...?  
Without a warning, the gruff sound of a familiar male voice cut into the tense atmosphere: “Again, so damned typical! Okay...! Biggs, Wedge – we go down!” Looking up, the dragon and the mortals discovered an airship flying into their direction. The Enterprise. Dodging Bismarck, Cid Garlond piloted the vehicle to them – close enough, that a simple jump was enough to reach safe ground.  
“Come on! Go aboard!” he called severely like an old man, as the Vanu were already recovering from their first confusion. Nodding, Haurchefant and Cecilia dragged Emmanellain with them, while Honoroit as well as the three Rose Knights made it by themselves to leap onto the ship.  
Right in the moment their feet landed, Cid and his two assistants were already making sure to leave the Vanu's area. The Enterprise turned around smoothly like a cat; not even shaking a little when Bismarck jumped right over the mortal's heads.  
Flying away, the airship was chased for a moment by the Primal. But in spite of his huge shape, which could have easily been used to throw them into the depths, the whale wasn't a pure danger. As his territory seemed no longer threatened, Bismarck stopped abruptly the hunt. Just as quickly as the creature had aimed for the intruders, he lost interest into his targets.  
He must still possess the nature of a harmless sea-creature...  
At least this impression was hard to deny while the whale ate peacefully a bleak sky-island.  
“Do you see that...?” Haurchefant whispered disbelieving, while he and Cecilia gazed at the Primal. Before she could answer, Emmanellain stated: “I'm glad we didn't encounter him earlier. Imagine, how this meeting could have ended without the airship. I--- uhm, we all would be fish-fodder now.” “Hehe, well, you recover still quite swiftly, don't you. For acting before like such a bunch of nerves. Can we count on your big mouth to be alright, too?” the maiden asked amused.  
Clearing his throat, the snobbish Elezen nodded. “I was only impressed by Bismarck's appearance. It's the first time I see a Primal with my own eyes.” His older half-brother constricted disgruntled the lids: “Teh, 'of course' that's the only reason why you were paralyzed...”  
Midgardsormr frowned as this trivial fact triggered something in his mind. Rather, as realization caught his awareness... For him, it had been the first time to see a modern Primal.

Smoothly, the Enterprise docked close to a ledge.  
“My lady and fellow gentlemen, next stop: Camp Cloudtop!” Cid called gladdened.  
The Haillenarte-knights were the first who left the vehicle; followed by Emmanellain and Honoroit. Both pageboy and Haurchefant gave their polite thanks to the three soldiers as well as engineers, while the spoiled Fortemps-son did not really showcase an authentic apology for his mistake. Leaving now the ship, his half-brother admonished Emmanellain for demonstrating bad manners. Thus, the young man tried once more, albeit his action lacked still sincerity.  
The Astrologian laughed muted while she beheld the spectacle.  
Cecilia stood on the airship, yet, and seemed to wait for something. Leaning slightly against the railing, she resembled the patience in person. And quickly, the dragon on her shoulder understood, why she did not walk to the others. It was for the Hyur-engineer, that she wasn't joining a lecture Haurchefant gave his sibling. When Cid was no longer distracted by the six armored Elezen as well as his two assistants, he turned instantly around to her. A big smile all over his face.  
Being in the mood of a rascal, he kept his joy noticeably down when he stated: “Ha, that was again a close-run thing! And not to forget the Primal... Absolutely matching my preferences!” After this, he spread slightly the arms – but not as some kind of shrugging. While Midgardsormr was irritated, Cecilia chuckled. She seemed to decode this odd movement... It was an invitation, apparently, because the Raen stepped closer to her ally.  
A wide grin appeared on their faces, when she stopped right before Cid.  
Appalled, the dragon hovered into the air, when she jumpily hugged the engineer.  
Eyes widened, he examined speechless, how the two embraced each other like a pair of siblings. Was Erik not the only mortal, who she considered as a family-member...? Plus, to which generation belonged this mature man here with that white hair and short beard? Was he not too old for acting like a big brother...? His wolf-like presence matched rather the status of a father...  
Gently, the Hyur spoke: “Good to see you again, Cecilia. When we had met each other in Thanalan, the atmosphere was too tense for fooling around a bit. I honestly apologize for that. While rescuing you Warriors, I should not have been that harsh to my favorite.” She shook smiling her head; enjoying the reunion clearly a lot. Their hug became tighter as she leaned her weight onto the man. Something, which didn't seem to bother Cid... Holding her close, he swayed their bodies kindly from left to right and vice versa.  
Midgardsormr could hardly swallow the wave of jealousy down which crawled through his corpus. How was it possible, that mortals with a stronger bond to her often caused him to feel that way...? She wasn't his property... And he had not declared to guard her. He was just a watcher. Not more... Also, it should be a relief for him, when at least ONE male mortal was close to her who did not count to the Elezen-species. Additional: Who was not Erik.  
“Above all, I had not expected to meet you today.” ,Cid added casually, “We were asked to help Ishgard's engineers out. That's why we are here in the camp. You see, it's about their airship, Protector. They need help with the completion – better yesterday than tomorrow. But that's the point with all customers: They can never get something fast enough.”  
A soft chuckle rolled in her throat, when she withdrew minimal from the wide shoulder her cheek had been occupying. “Hm, you rarely take a break from your employment, right? But that's okay... Who wouldn't do that in your shoes. When one would have lost his memories for such a long time. Five years spending in a church without a single airship in close reach... That must have been vacation for a few decades.” she uttered softly; earning a brave smile of the Hyur.  
Patting her spine, he uttered: “When I eavesdropped, that you're here in Abalathia, I had the feeling something must be wrong. As some knights spoke about a missing child of your benefactor's family. And just look, we found you right in time – the specialty of the Garlond Ironworks.”  
She laughed blithesome, when Cid suddenly lifted her into the air.  
But for Midgardsormr, on the other hand, it was partly abashing; partly upsetting.  
The Hyur sighed when he placed her back on the floor: “I fear I must return to my job. Gil won't fly into my pocket for doing nothing. We'll chat later a bit, if you have time left. The Machinist's Guild was so friendly to give us shelter at night.” Nodding, she left the airship: “I'll visit you for sure. Biggs, Wedge, let's talk then also a bit, okay?” The assistants agreed before they said goodbye; calling her their fellow craftswoman. They returned afterwards to their defined places on the airship with jolly smirks on the lips. Both Roegadyn and Lalafell modest souls.  
It took just a blink of the eye for the engineers to navigate the Enterprise away.

Haurchefant appeared mentally defeated.  
Sending his brother back to the manor in Ishgard, he made a tired face as the boy was gone.  
But he didn't rest maugre the exhaustion. Albeit he was finally 'alone' with the maiden, the Elezen acted dutyfully: “We should report the occurrences primarily to Laniaitte. I might have convinced the Rose Knights, that it would be my task to explain them for her, but... When it comes to Primals, you are the expert here. So, I hope you can still lend me a bit of your time...”  
She giggled lowly in regards to his nervousness – the dragon floating next to her hissed.  
“Of course I can. Do not worry. And as I told you before: I gladly accepted your offering to do something together. My decision hasn't changed so far.” she replied smiling. The knight studied her with loving eyes: “Thank you, milady... That means a lot to me. But if I am allowed to be serious... My brother really can't let a chance to pass by, when it comes to disgracing himself... I just wish father wouldn't have requested Emmanellain's attendance. At least since the 'happening' I do so... We all would have payed this time the price for my brother's naivety.”  
As they started walking to the place where Haurchefant's friend was stationed, the maiden sashayed in front of him while she responded: “I have no legitimate siblings, wherefore I shouldn't tell you my opinion. But... If you ask me, your brother was simply too often treated like a charming prince. Too much spoiled, in other words. And without experiencing a few mature problems as well as dangerous situations, he won't grow out of his childish ignorance.”  
Like a butterfly, she practically danced along the path while the man reflected on her words. Midgardsormr would lie, if he pretended to disdain her movements. And the knight seemed also captivated by her doing – his mien demonstrated no longer guilt or exasperation. Indeed mortifying, how they shared the fascination for this odd woman.  
Reaching the Rosehouse, Laniaitte was already waiting for them.  
The Haillenarte-daughter listened patiently to the report; only moving her head in order to shake it whenever the name of Haurchefant's sibling fell. It was hard to believe, but her antipathy for him exceeded the despondency which Emmanellain had earned so far from his brother. Nevertheless, obligation was the woman's first priority, which her words reflected: “Bismarck is the legendary white whale of the Sea Of Clouds... The Vanu summoned him as a Primal? Unbelievable.”  
Sighing, Haurchefant said: “I know... And I do not understand it. We had originally a good relation to the Vanu Vanu. Our first contact had been peaceful. When they became suddenly aggressive, keeping distance to them hadn't helped to ease the situation in the last weeks. Therefore, today was like the spot on the i because of their evocation. Why did they change their mind? I really wonder about that... Is the Primal himself the reason for that?”  
Cecilia closed her eyes, when the two Elezen looked at her. And albeit the dragon was soaring over their heads, he was barely ignoring the interest which had developed in his corpus. His ridiculous long ears winced, when she inhaled the air. “Primals CAN manipulate their believers. But that is in Bismarck's case only a theory – because of the way how the Vanu behave. I have seen humans and members of several beast-tribes standing under the hex of their gods. For me, our chubby birds here do not resemble such brainwashed zombies.”  
Haurchefant asked curious: “So, you assume they were persuaded by something or somebody else to declare us as foes?” “Maybe.” ,she replied and opened partly the lids, “The Ascians interfere whenever we mortals are not sufficient in causing trouble. Limsa Lominsa is surely blameworthy for breaking the promise they had given the kobolds, but you knights were only exploring the area as much as I understand. If you haven't accidentally tramped their rites, the Vanu had no reason to experience any anger considering you.”  
“What is your first impression regarding Bismarck?” Laniaitte wanted to know.  
Leaning her mouth against the left fist, Cecilia mumbled: “He's quite animalistic, I would say. Because of his appearance, I had expected him to have a personality similar to Leviathan, but... Maybe that whale can't even speak. Of course I have no proof for this thought. For an accurate idea, I simply need more details about Bismarck's history. Yet, I experienced him – despite the grave fact, that he eats islands – as a pacific creature. He simply guards his territory. Not more.”  
The two knights nodded and decided to browse the information they had about the Vanu once more. But as Haurchefant felt guilty for 'stealing her time', he begged Cecilia to take the rest of the day off – something, which she seemed to mind. Complaining, that she loved reading coverages, the Raen sulked a little to be excluded from the research. However, her mood didn't seem to be seriously darkened when she saw the knights off; seeking the way back to Camp Cloudtop.

No hurry lay in her calm movements as she stepped over the beaten-path.  
Therefore, Midgardsormr flew slowly by her side – floating in the gentle breeze that brushed currently over Abalathia. Perhaps it was a fresh wind, yet not as cold as in Coerthas thanks to the shining sun. His sensitive corpus didn't shiver like a leaf while the air ran over him. He could even close the lids now and then peacefully under nature's touch. And as he wasn't fighting the weather, he felt a little bit more talkative than usual.  
Still influenced by his jealousy, the Methuselah barely kept his disfavor for Cecilia's closeness to the Hyur down: “Thy engineer-friend... Is he not too old for thee? Thou two act like real siblings...” She furrowed her brows when she payed now attention to him. The crystal demonstrated slightly indignation as he gazed at her left side of the face. But then, Cecilia shook amused her head. “Sheesh, Cid isn't old. Don't let yourself be fooled by his beard- and hair-color. Just like Alphinaud, he naturally owns white strands. And we get pretty good along – even when he suffered under amnesia in the first moments we had spent together, we were buddies. I enjoy his presence a lot, which he seems to share. We're good friends who are not ashamed of showing our sympathy.”  
The dragon gazed disgruntled at the ground.  
He wasn't happy to hear this... Not, that the dragon minded Cid on a personal level.  
He was rather crestfallen, because Cecilia preferred already somebody else... At least as a favorite; unimportant if this was not in a carnal manner. She held Alphinaud in her heart on a level of such dear admiration, that one as a watcher couldn't be fond of it. Even, when the child did not experience any open demonstration of sympathy like being hugged... She fancied him. A lot. Thus, how could in her heart exist so much free space for another male creature? Above all a man, who she didn't treat politely like the teenager, but who dealt with the familiarity of a closest friend.  
Admittedly, Midgardsormr wasn't glad about Haurchefant, neither...  
Yet, the knight was another case. First of all, that man was a general fan of the Warriors of Light. He caused less annoyance for the dragon than Alphinaud or Cid via this honest excitement including the complete group, while the other two seemingly had a preference for the maiden. Secondly: Albeit the Elezen possessed for Cecilia a pure emotion his interactions always revealed, the Raen did not respond to it. At least Midgardsormr didn't see this.  
“You really think it's inappropriate that Cid and me are so close to each other.”  
It wasn't a question. Raising his head, Midgardsormr examined her mien with lifted brows.  
Deliberating his words, he answered slowly: “I have never seen mortals acting like that when they were not related by blood or... marriage. Thou art allowed to call me old-fashioned as a punishment, because I fear I have become that on the day I gave hope for humankind up. But... Although I know I might overreact, this knowledge does not prevent me from feeling irritated.”  
She widened her eyes for a moment. Stared at him, as if he had exposed a forbidden secret.  
Then, she suddenly giggled with muffled amusement. He cocked his head to left side in perplexity about her doing. Before he could ask, how to understand her merriment, she explained unheedingly: “The age of a person does really not matter when it's about being friends with people. And if you're not narrow-minded, the same counts for couples. You would be surprised how many young women prefer older men – and how many older monsieurs appreciate younger mademoiselles. Additional, the other way round works sometimes, too. So, even IF Cid would be old enough for being a dad or a grandpa, you can bet I wouldn't retire from our friendship.”  
Inhaling the air, Midgardsormr tried to consider her opinion. But that was hard...  
She placed her hands onto the hips; eyeballed him with a sulking expression. The pursuant reproach was quite reckless: “You, mister, could be my great-great-great-grandfather multiplied by infinity. And that would turn you into somebody I should not have befriended – exactly your opinion! Hence, it wouldn't hurt you to come a little bit out of your snail-shell.”  
Midgardsormr smiled a little, but it didn't last long.  
“I have trouble to adopt myself to thy mortal's customs. This has never been different. In the past, perhaps I was a little bit more flexible, but nowadays I practically seem to be frozen in place. I am... an antiquity.” he shrived and lowered head plus ears. “Hmmm... I see...” she murmured empathetic. With folded arms, Cecilia came closer to him while they still went back to Camp Cloudhead. Irregular, her strands of hair brushed over his wings as they danced in the wind. They were smooth like finest silk... Simultaneous, the maiden answered his helpless gaze with soft eyes.  
“I fear...” ,she began gently, “...I have to shock you. In an unorthodox way. Better now then later. Because I do not want you to be unnecessarily over-strained in the case it comes again to THAT.” He narrowed the lids in confusion. Which kind of secret could an innocent girl own, when she was obviously worried to overtax his mental strength?

“You see, Midgard... I may have my personal favorites here, who are all male beings, but there, where my actual home is located... I was never part of a solid relationship. Especially not with boys. Not a single boy, to more directly. As a teenager, I had several dates with other girls. You could say, I spent a few months with one girl just to get another after the former 'friend' lost my interest. Not, that I broke so any hearts... I was dating girls who were not seeking for an honest partnership. Yet... the same counted for me. I wanted nothing serious. And probably I will sooner or later end up dating people again without a deeper connection to them.”  
She patiently looked at him while he let the amount of information settle down in his brain.  
However, Midgardsormr let one knowledge wander through his consciousness for several times... She had been dating females. Other females. A girl who showed affection for another. Perhaps, Cecilia had been kissing and hugging them... Doing even more than innocent activities, maybe... Depending on the meaning behind the phrase 'nothing serious'...  
As if this was not enough, she was not detesting men. He should be appalled to hear, that she cared for both genders... Because he had noticed in the near of modern mortals, that bisexual beings earned the reputation of disloyally creatures... He should really be worried... If it would just be easy to ignore the allurement... To decline the fascination he felt for her a fortiori there were simply more and more things to experience about her personality.  
He could not deny the pull. Not therefore.  
“Thou want to express... that thy love-life is not the one of a naive mortal. That thou art an adult and no little child. Am I grasping thy words correctly?” he asked carefully; seeing how a calm smile spread over her face. “Not sure, if I would call people 'naive' who wait for Mister alias Miss Right, but yeah... Albeit I do fancy romantic stuff.” she admitted open-hearted.  
Shrugging, she added: “I think – in case I ever date a man – I want to have a real romance. A true, sincere relationship. Being with girls is always a cute thing, but for me it lacks a specific sweetness I see in usual man-woman-couples. Hehe, that's surely odd in the eyes of somebody like you. Women must appeal to dragons much more than men. They are prettier and not so aggressive. Still, I could not live forever in a same-sex partnership. Maybe that's because I feel like the male part while being with a girl...”  
His brows twitched a few times when he tried to imagine this scenario.  
Was she hinting at this side of hers, which he found to resemble the behavior of dragons?  
Leaning his head backwards and looking up to the sky, he murmured: “Thou art a pure soul... Notwithstanding thy private preferences. It is not my right to judge thy own search for happiness.” A sad smile flitted over her lips. “Unfortunately, Midgard... Since I have so far not dared to attempt one partnership in Eorzea, I can't promise to match your opinion about me. No matter if with a man or another woman... And that's not even the biggest problem in my eyes.”  
She stopped walking, so the dragon paused his movements, too.  
Floating in the air, he studied the maiden unsettled when he recognized affliction in her mien.  
She sighed, before she stated upfront: “I am not sure... if I can love somebody with my whole heart. If I could dedicate myself to somebody as a partner – forever... Can I even admire somebody more than anything else in the world...? My current self might be romantic, yet that seems to be not much. I hold my friends dear, but that isn't the same thing. It's not the same kind of love.”  
Midgardsormr stared overwhelmed at her face.  
He hadn't expected her to be lacking any for mortals important traits.  
Chuckling lowly, she made a confident step forward. “Don't let it bother you.” was all Cecilia said when she passed the dragon. Gazing over her shoulder at him, she continued her way, so he couldn't do anything else but following her. Midgardsormr felt like hanging upside-down in the air – he had the impression to be missing something... He was just unable to ask her about it...  
Cecilia's left hand glided cautiously over his long ears.  
She sensed obviously his concern. So, the maiden bestowed a soft grin at him: “No pity necessary. My heart belonged once to a special being. Or rather, my entire soul did that. Long ago... I was told, that a former existence of mine loved purely and with deepest passion. Unconditionally. Therefore, I'm the reincarnation of a person who could cherish. And that's why I count on being able to love when I meet the right person for me. This, I think, is one of the good aspects about being a mortal. We can be reborn over and over. We have endless chances.”  
Midgardsormr sighed and nodded. The immortal souls of mankind were indeed a miracle.  
He had witnessed in the far away past, how reborn people yearned unknowingly to fulfill the wishes their former selves had been keeping. It was part of the natural spiral of life. Some souls might become corrupted by the flow, but others lost in return their darkness and became bright. Frightening, wondrous, yet gorgeous process of nature...  
Just like the maiden who caressed now his corpus.  
Letting his system catch fire with her beauty.


	9. Chapter 9

# Chapter Nine

The air was a little bit thick, yet pleasantly fresh.  
Compared to the outside-atmosphere of Thanalan a welcome variation.  
He stretched his corpus while he lay on a wooden box. Maybe some kind of crate... Several of these stood around here. Bottles stored on and within a few exemplars. Some of the glassy objects had been placed randomly on the ground, too. The whole room looked therefore like a forsaken refugee of the poor. An ownerless shelter. Somehow, it was even such a thing, as this place had once been the headquarter of the Scions. The Waking Sands...  
A tired sigh caught his attention.  
The Warriors next to him seemed beaten... Still, they tried to save face. Four of them were present; sitting on cheap stools around an old desk. Bertram and Tammy played a famous card-game named Triple Triad – Carlos read meanwhile together with Annika in an old tome. Their good mood was overshadowed by exhaustion. The fight before had clearly cost lots of their strength...  
It had been an impressive battle – he was forced to admit that.  
But who would expect anything else from them, when a friend was threatened by death itself...  
Learning, that the imprisoned Raubahn should soon be punished for 'his' crime with an execution, Tataru had informed Alphinaud as well as the Warriors about it on a meeting with Count Fortemps. Albeit Edmont warned them to be careful, he supported their wish to free the Flame General. Organizing an airship, he managed it to arrange a meeting for them with Lima Lominsa's leader. Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn had so far denied the petition Ul'dah's to 'analyze' the Scions and their allies, wherefore she might still be on the right side.  
And indeed, the Count's impression had been correct.  
When Alphinaud and the adventurers visited her, the Roegadyn demonstrated clear joy to see them save and sound in her city-state. She told them, that Gridania's leader, too, was not believing into those accusations which the Syndicate spread. Both Merwyb and Kan-E-Senna had learned from Sultana Nanamo herself, which plans she had developed for Ul'dah's future. Because of that, imprisoning Raubahn as well as blaming the Scions was proofing, that neither Teledji nor Lolorito were as innocent as they had pretended to be.  
Alphinaud reacted then taken aback. With the former being dead, the later member of the Syndicate was now controlling the majority of Ul'dah's actions. But it would not resemble Lolorito to risk willingly any chaos in the desert's pearl. So, the teenager had asked, if the Sultana was maybe alive. Merwyb's right hand, Eynzahr Slafyrsn, explained hereupon, that no official confirmation existed. All information reaching the nation's people was the fact, that Nanamo would be absent because of her health's bad condition.  
Nodding, the Elezen had stated, that he also wondered, why Raubahn was still alive. Why Lolorito was not earlier commanding a final criminal-conviction. Following, Limsa's leader mentioned Midgardsormr's abhorred Marasaja-prison in Ul'dah, where they had kept Raubahn for a long while. But in the last days, soldiers had taken him somewhere else. Not Lolorito's men, thought. People in striking blue uniforms – the Crystal Braves. Rumors existed, according to which those soldiers under Ilberd's leadership did not follow anymore Lolorito's wishes.  
Merlwyb had wanted to save Raubahn, too, as he was a key for the Eorzean Alliance.  
So, she was already waiting for the information about his current whereabouts. With their friends alias the unbound Ninjas of Doma, she had before decided to develop a fast rescue-plan as soon as they knew Raubahn's jail. And because Merlwyb regretted her inaction back in Ul'dah, she would not allow this time any harm coming to Raubahn or the Scions including the Warriors.  
Under Limsa's flag, Alphinaud and the adventurers were then sailed to Thanalan.  
There, Yugiri, one of the Ninjas, inducted them into the current state of affairs.  
Raubahn was imprisoned in Halatali – and despite Lolorito's clear order to let the captive stay alive, the Crystal Braves were determined to kill him soon. This information was all the group needed, wherefore they traveled to aforesaid place. With the help of the Ninjas, they had entered the prison. Destroying several traps plus beating a few monsters, they made it to find Raubahn.  
Freeing him hadn't been easy, because Ilberd showed up; accompanied by loyal henchmen.  
This confrontation had been the real fight – the impressive battle which had exhausted the group until the point of almost passing out. Operating with unfair tricks, the Crystal Braves had used toxin within the air in order to kill their enemies. Without Cecilia's and Annika's skills as healers, probably none of the mortals would have survived this trap.  
Yet, they could beat the Crystal Braves.  
But it was impossible to stop Ilberd and his henchmen from escaping. After a short conversation, Yuyuhase enabled their getaway – the same Lalafell, who had enraged Midgardsormr back then until the point of him losing control over his draconic instincts. To his own shame, the dragon was deeply regretting his halfhearted reaction, because that dwarf would really have deserved dead.  
Nevertheless, the joy about Raubahn's safety was even affecting the Methuselah.  
In his dormant position, he watched the four adventurers.  
Them, as well as Raubahn, who conversed right now with his son.  
Pipin as well as another Lalafell, Papashan, had welcomed the group in the Waking Sands.  
The later was an old mortal and a good friend of the General as well as the Sultana. When he heard about Raubahn's rescue, nothing had stopped him from accompanying Pipin. Albeit both Lalafell hadn't appreciated the person who revealed this information to them. Dewlala, a female member of the Syndicate, had been aware of the whole complot. And she resided in the entrance-hall, too, when Urianger as the last save Scion plus head of the Waking Sands offered Raubahn shelter.  
This Lalafell had given a short explanation about Lolorito's plan to beat his rivals.  
She was confirming, that the Sultana would never die by the hands of the grabby merchant who still cherished Ul'dah's order, and referred to Nanamo's servant being loyal to him. When he ordered her to exchange the poison meant for the Sultana with another, that woman followed his wish. Thus, Dewlala suggested, it might be the best for Raubahn to let Lolorito have Teledji's little resources, while he could find a possibility to save Nanamo – and regain his rightful place.  
After the Syndicate-member bid farewell, the majority of Warriors had decided to take a break – something favored by Erik, who still needed to discuss the next steps with Alphinaud and Urianger. Cecilia was with them, which frustrated the dragon a little, yet he hadn't been able to refuse her plea when she begged him to already rest together with her companions.  
Hence, he lay now here. On this wooden object.  
Despite his claim to be alright more influenced by the toxin in Halatali than he had admitted.  
Looking at the mortals in this chamber, Pipin as well as Papashan beheld the General and Warriors with great concern in the eyes. Since they were inhabitants of Ul'dah, surely they had an idea how Halatali was guarded from unbidden guests... and equipped in order to avoid any escapes. Even if their joy might overlap the worry, they would later guaranteed deliver some medicine for the group. Considering the Alchemist-Guild of the city-state, doing so would not be a problem at all...  
The Methuselah wrinkled his nostrils when he thought about such drugs.  
Dragons were not known for consuming antidotes. Or potions. They simply lay down and slept until their injuries were gone. While mortals might feel the need to 'cheat' because of that frightening short lifespan, his kind did not care for enduring a small period like a handful of months. For him, the same given condition counted. Howbeit he ignored sleeping to the point where his corpus forced him to rest. Otherwise, he made sure his consciousness would be aware of the environment.  
Additional... If he would ever accept medicine, if wouldn't be created by a stranger...

Midgardsormr raised lazily his head.  
The archmage entered finally the room; Erik right behind her.  
The two looked as tired as their companions when they went to Raubahn. Without sitting down, both conversed a little with the man. Nothing specific; rather trivial things from living in Ishgard. The General obviously enjoyed this idle chatter a lot. Like an amicable bull, he stayed on his place while paying full attention to them. His son plus Papashan followed that positive example, wherefore even the short-spoken Erik talked many words compared to the Lalafells.  
For inhabitants of Thanalan, the snowy city must be a wondrous place...  
The mortals continued their activities until Pipin had to return to the Immortal Flames.  
As he had no vacation at the moment, the Vice Marshall couldn't risk trouble. Absence for too long without a proper reason would be suspicious. Thus, he made his way back to Ul'dah. But not alone. The pensioned Paladin had decided to accompany Pipin. Papashan was for today also not done with the job he had taken despite the retirement as soldier. And as this old mortal was duteous, he wanted to see if everything was alright. In a joking manner, he stated the youth wouldn't be trustworthy.  
So, both men said for now goodbye to Raubahn and the others.  
Smelling a chance, Bertram 'attacked' his allies instantly after the Lallafells were gone.  
The Paladin-Roegadyn wanted to know their opinion about a game called 'Poker', since they all could play it together. Triple Triad was a funny thing, he said, but not meant for larger company. Erik agreed instantly to the card-game – Raubahn, Tammy and Carlos joined the duo. Deliberate, Annika decided to mime the card-dealer in order to prevent cheating; Cecilia contented herself with just being a watcher because of lacking the rules a little.  
When the mortals started their game, the Raen walked to Midgardsormr.  
She sat down next to the crate which he occupied. On a smaller wooden box, wherefore her head was right on his height. He looked at the left half of her face with benignly gazes – relieved to see her in a good condition in spite of her exhaustion. As his knowledge about mortal resilience wasn't the best one, he was worried if Halatali's toxin wouldn't harm her via an aftereffect.  
But thinking about it... There was something which bothered him.  
A specific phrase this Ilberd had spoken before he escaped with that putrid dwarf Yuyuhase...  
“Do thou think...” ,he began puzzled with wrinkled nostrils, “...the Crystal Brave's leader is right? Was his statement the truth?” The Raen looked irritated at Midgardsormr. Shook her head like a short quake to emphasize she couldn't follow his hint. “Ilberd said a few things. About all of us who are on his enemy-list. He's a talkative man and loves showing off – with his thoughts and ideals. You must give me a concrete example when it comes to him.”  
The dragon's gaze wandered to the floor when he dove into detail: “Everybody takes advantage of the adventurers. Of the Warriors of Light. And of thee as a single person. That man said, that thou would be a tool. A weapon without knowing when somebody uses thee. A naive being who is blinded by trust.” He widened his eyes, when he heard an evil chuckle. Glancing promptly at her, the dragon saw how she looked smirking into space. No light shone in her irises. They were stony. “Ilberd Feare never considered anything else, presumably...” she said with a narcissistic pitch.  
For a moment, he could not grasp it. But then he understood...  
Cecilia must have seen once a friend in that man... This was natural for her...  
“I... am sorry. I did not want to hurt thy feelings...” the Methuselah murmured. Only after he had uttered his concern, he realized quickly the false aspect of his apology. A dragon begging a mortal for forgiveness... What foolishness this was. Idiocy. But she let him act like a blockhead quite often, on the other hand. Beholding simply her face calmed him in the very second he began to experience boiling anger towards himself...  
She closed her eyes and began to smile a little bit softer. “His opinion might be true. But I do not look like him at this topic. Say... Do you remember the conversation Erik and me had in Ul'dah? With Alphinaud? Before the Sultana was poisoned? I'm not sure if I was back then clear enough... Perhaps I wasn't...” she noticed calmly, before her lids swung open again.  
He answered her gaze instantly; held the eye-contact albeit it was disturbing. Cecilia examined him with pity in the odd-colored irises... “I always rather fear, we adventurers accept money or special advantages for a weak service in return.” ,the maiden stated, “And when I help others, I'm worried they could feel forced to support me when I ask for something. So, if the job of an adventurer is a bad thing, it seems I do only help beings in need because I am selfishly thinking about the rewards. Hence... I am no tool, when I manipulate people through my backing.”  
Midgardsormr shook his head in frustration.  
The maiden did not answer in an acceptable way...  
“Thou art trying to convince me of thy disingenuousness... Thou do that very often... But I hardly see anything horrible about thee... Nothing worse than the sin Ishgard committed.” he growled; sternly in his complaint. Tapping against his right temple with her left hand, she replied: “I want to believe into the concept of helping each other. That was always so... And never counted only for other humans. Thus, I do not feel like a brainless weapon. I am just as bad as I can be.”  
Her brave fingers on his skull distracted him from his displeasure. She did honestly never treat him like a being of another species... “We all are equally innocent and guilty, Midgard.” she said lowly; not at all respectful amongst the caressing of his forehead. “Thou speak in riddles...” he whispered with sunken lids. Breathing hardly in plus out, because her touch was deeply enchanting...

She gave him suddenly a sad smile.  
“I lost in this building many new friends. Have I ever mentioned this?” the maiden asked. His eyes glowed for a short moment, as he stared surprised at her. Leaning her head onto the right shoulder, hesitantly her hand slipped from his temple. The smile on her lips became smaller.  
“I was an ordinary Conjurer who had just been granted with the honor to become a Whitemage.” ,Cecilia explained, “Welcomed in the base of the Scions, I had befriended a few persons who were very often present in these halls. It was a wonderful experience. Yet, when I was for a longer while not around, several Garlean soldiers attacked the Waking Sands. Temporarily residing members of the Scions were instantly taken as hostage. But all other new friends... got killed.”  
He obtained goosebumps under her voice and gaze. At the most these irises... They cursed him with their simple expression... Such altruistic agony was hard to endure... As if she could read his mind, she let her lids sink down. Easing the tension both crystal and jewel had created for him.  
Biting for a moment visibly into her lip, she added: “Not only men were the victims of this attack. What would you say, if I told you, that also a 'beast' fell by the Garlean's hands...?” “I would be... quite confused by this information. Although I do not understand thy word's meaning completely. Which kind of 'beast'... could have been hiding in these walls?” he asked irritated.  
“It was a Slyph. Her name was Noraxia – and she had just joined the Scions a while ago. Somehow, she turned out to be my favorite under the newest friends. The personality she had gotten was... refreshing like a breeze. Also... it was a mutual feeling, obviously. We were glad to see each other whenever we met. She even practiced camouflaging as a humane girl... because she wanted to stroll unhindered through Ul'dah with me. It was her personal wish.” the Au Ra said nostalgic.  
“But... She was here, when the soldiers came. At first Noraxia had hidden herself – like she did always as a precaution when strangers appeared... Yet, when the enemies starting to kill our friends and enchained the present Scions, she could not watch this deedless. So she fought. And died, too, when she wanted to protect Minfilia.” the words dripped silently.  
He felt over-strained by this information, but did not allow the sentiment to become apparent. Therefore, the dragon wondered casually: “How did the Sylph-tribe judge this violent occurring? Were they not terrified...?” The maiden sighed tired. “They weren't angered like you seem to expect. My friend had joined the Scions of the Seventh Dawn with the blessing of her people. They trusted the Scions. Trusted us. We had helped them to find and rescue their elder, wherefore Noraxia was back then so unalterable decided. Hence, the Sylphs were only sad about their sister's death...”  
Had she herself made a report for the tribe...? He would not be surprised, at least...  
The girl placed her head onto the other shoulder. Still not opening the windows to her soul again, she added: “Helping each other is the key in order to understand others. Even, if they might be from another race. Sometimes, it is perhaps still necessary to have a fight for settling things... Or to test the determination of one's wish to obtain peace... But in the end, it's worth the effort.”  
Midgardsormr lowered his ears. He found it difficult to bless her opinion...  
Feeling conflicted, he murmured with an earnest mien: “I am not sure if I could ever understand thee or thy reasoning truthfully... We dragons are not innocent... We do not believe anymore into such blue-eyed concepts...” “But one of the false gods does.” she cut him even-tempered off.  
Slightly cocking his head, he beheld her suddenly direct gaze with wonderment.  
“The primal of the Sylphs trusts this wish.” ,Cecilia said straightforward, “When we Warriors had proven our value, Ramuh talked to all of us. Before he vanished, this wise grandpa encouraged me to follow my personal path. He believes we people can settle our disputes if we just want to understand each other again. Convinced of balance, he hopes for out-reaching hands. So... When he – as a primal – is able to be more than originally intended... we can demolish our limits, too.”  
Confused and speechless, Midgardsormr stared into her unrelenting eyes.  
Breathing slowly in, he asked: “Thou fought against him, when thou art speaking about a proof...?” “Aye. Soon after beating Ifrit, Titan and Garuda for a few times... Plus Leviathan for the first time. Ramuh knew that we had stopped those primals. And I think he knows how much his presence costs the planet on which we live. That's why he wanted to see if we can protect the forest instead of him. And more than just the woods. He seeks for balance between light and darkness.”  
Waveringly the dragon's head wandered slowly from one side to the other. Back and forth. Nonstop. “Tell me...” ,he murmured, “Would thou yearn for this all-embracing peace, even if thou art forced to sacrifice everything dear to thee? Even thy morale and innocence?” “If I must. But only myself. Nobody else. I give my life when I have to.” she replied bravely smiling and full of tranquility.  
His eyes glowed, as he stared overwhelmed and partly abashed onto her mien.  
How... Just how could this young girl act resolute like an old dragon...?  
She frightened him with this bare determination...

While Raubahn stayed sheltered in the Waking Sands, the Warriors returned to Ishgard.  
Alphinaud was a bit groggy thanks to the poison's aftereffects, wherefore the boy stuck for now once more to studying the city's laws plus history written down in ancient books. This lassitude was also the reason, why a specific request reached solely the adventurers. Not even the motherly Tataru learned about the precise details. Not about the where nor about the involved.  
The group was tasked to do a few jobs in the Dravanian Forelands.  
And as it was the sovereign territory of dragons, the Azure Knight had decided to come along.  
Not directly frowning upon them, the Elezen had still clarified to find the clan of Chocobo-hunters quite frustrating. Which was, why he could not let his comrades waltz alone into Dravania and support the 'tree-hugging' huntsmen. If dragons would attack, he had asserted, a few feeblish arrows were rather a crummy excuse than successfully repelling 'pangolins'. So, he was now here, too.  
The missions centered on the protection of wild Chocobos.  
Natural predators threatened to ruin the population of the birds. Herbivores of the Chocobo's food had increased in the last season. And since a while, poachers who did not respect nature's balance killed haphazardly birds plus took their eggs for selling them as delicacy. These three problems were normally in separated form easily to handle, but together, they were for the clan alone definitely too troublesome and risky. Thus, helping hands were more than welcome.  
Erik, who was a huge Chocobo-friend – like Midgardsormr had noticed – seemed to be excited about these requests. He might not act more talkative than usual, but his gruffness seemed eased when it came to the birds. Also, his lack of manners was focused on the poachers, wherefore he had a little bit more sensitivity left for his allies. Now and then, he even played around with Bertram alias the most sunshiny Roegadyn-Paladin. They jested in these moments like jolly young boys, which caused even the icy Carlos to smile noticeably in amusement.  
But the leader was not only therefore in a good mood. Estinien's company delighted the Hyur a lot. In the wilderness of Dravania, they wrestled occasionally for fun with each other, when the situation did allow this privacy. Despite the antipathy which Dragoon and Blackmage shared in their strange relatedness as cousins, the rest of the group was also downright merry in leisure-time.  
Well, at least this counted for Bertram, Tammy and Annika...  
Cecilia acted somehow reserved when she spoke to the Elezen.  
Albeit she examined happily the interactions of her personal brother and the Azure Knight, she was obviously avoiding direct conversations with the later. Midgardsormr had not noticed that before, but now – in comparison to her other friends – she kept a discrete distance to Estinien.  
Nevertheless, there was a familiarity amongst the Raen and the Dragoon, which he couldn't name. And even, when Erik was seemingly closer to Estinien, the Methuselah doubted that the gruff man possessed the same place like the maiden owned. Probably he was a blockhead considering mortals and their relationships, but even in his eyes it was clear to see... Cecilia and Estinien were allies or rather friends on another level. They must have experienced an adventure... a past together, which outmatched the comradely bond that her 'brother' and the Elezen united.

The sun was almost gone from the evening-sky.  
A cool breeze brushed over Dravania's trees; all leafs rustled muted amongst their motion.  
Nearby Tailfeather, Cecilia and her comrades gathered around a camp-fire. Estinien had suggested to stay under the trees for this night, since no empty beds were currently available in the 'tavern'. Additional, the group wasn't interested into returning to the hunter-settlement, as their tasked duties would continue tomorrow. Hence, they sat now with blankets under their bodies on the floor. Guarded by the strangely growing plants; like the Elezen had emphasized it.  
A little bit, Midgardsormr was crestfallen about the Azure Knight's knowledge.  
Of course, the open field close to the forest was a hazardous place for humans at night...  
The dragons who lived in this area avoided only flying into the wood, because dodging the branches as well as roots was troublesome... Hunting victims somewhere else was more rewarding... But still, it would have satisfied the Methuselah to see, how his descendants might chase the mortals around. At least, this counted for Erik. Disturbing his dear leisure-time... Waking that awful man rudely from his sweet dreams would be a wonderful experience...  
The Methuselah shook his head slightly, as he noticed the malicious joy within his thoughts.  
Antipathy towards the Warrior's leader felt like a childish sentiment; no matter how true it might be, that the Marauder possessed apart from his brilliant talent as a cook only unlovable traits. Of course, there was this exaltation for Chocobos and the brotherly fondness for Cecilia, but the birds were amusing creatures – the maiden a wondrous yet friendly girl. Erik was not special to demonstrate sympathy for the former and later existences.  
Leaning his weight more into the blanket, he let himself become distracted by female chatter.  
While the male humans were still eating a soup from ordinary bowls, the Au Ra conversed with Annika and Tammy. The Miqo'te had somehow started a talk about her family, which the Lalafell did instantly join when her own mother had something in common with Tammy's. And Cecilia – talkative, like she was – participated in the chorus.  
“My mom was my inspiration to become a magician.” ,the Raen stated, “But unlike Annika's mom, she was not solely a healer. She had been a formidable mage. Additionally, she was also a Valkyrie – a female knight who uses spears and swords. Compared to her, I am an amateur. In everything.” Making a long face, aforesaid Lalafell asked: “How old were you again, when she died...?”  
Wincing, Midgardsormr sat up as fast as lightning.  
The maiden was an orphan...? Why had he never heard anything about this...?  
His eyes tore glowing on his lids, when his sudden affright reached his consciousness. Did it really matter to him, that she had not shared this fact...? It could not be important, when Cecilia didn't feel like speaking with him about it. So why... Where did this shock he experienced come from...?  
The Au Ra smiled unperturbed, as if she had been asked about a negligibility.  
“I guess I was eleven; almost twelve. She had always cared for others more than for herself, wherefore it was not really a wonder when she got infected with a sickness by one of her patients. This hadn't been the first time, but the doctors working on a general medicine for this one sickness had yet failed to find a fitting formula for all blood-types. And Mom's blood rejected the prototype. Thus, nothing could be done to help her.” the maiden explained.  
A soft chuckle rolled in her throat, when she noticed how all mortals gazed doleful at her.  
Midgardsormr found her reaction at first very insensitive. But he hadn't heard the whole story yet.  
Her eyes shone in the camp-fire's light with pride: “My mom died not painfully. She just fell asleep and woke never up again. And her last days had been dedicated to helping the doctors out as good as possible – plus saying goodbye to us; her family. The ones who suffered – she said – were we. Or, in other words: Mom pitied us for our grief and sorrow. Even with the unchangeable end hanging over her, she wasn't worried about herself. While we cried rivers, she shed no tear.”  
Marveling this example of a courageous woman, the adventurers and Estinien nodded with enthusiastic smiles on their lips. For them, it was surely special... Another mortal accepted death; holding the head up high despite a terrible fate awaiting oneself.  
The dragon, though, had trouble to imagine this.  
Ishgard had sinned one-thousand years ago for just gaining more strength and in the hope of keeping their lives a little bit longer. Their price had been nothing compared to the loss his kind had experienced. With these things in mind, he was not able to believe the maiden's words completely. But when he thought about it...  
Albeit he could not picture an unknown being to act like that... Cecilia was indeed altruistic enough, that he would not be entirely surprised if she would behave this way. Therefore, her mother had shared this oddness, perhaps... Depending, to whom of her parents this trait originally belonged... Thinking about it... Was there even anything he knew about the Raen's kinsman...?  
As if they had noticed his irritation, the females began conversing about their fathers.  
To the dragon's displeasure, however, Cecilia kept asking her friends things about their ancestors instead of revealing details of her own. The maiden wanted to know bagatelles so unimportant and negligible that he doubted somebody would remember them in the next day at all.  
Yet, when the conversation seemed to have reached it's end after a while, finally a little information came up: “Why my mom and dad became a couple? Well, the story is a little bit silly...” “Maybe, but still I want to listen to it. After all, I recall you said once, that your mother was only 18 years old when she 'caught your father'. So, he must have been some kind of valuable trophy, right? And see, I love a good hunt. Stories about them, at the most.” Tammy stated grinning and winked.  
Cecilia giggled slightly, before she responded: “You see, my father is older than her. But my mom possessed always a weakness for men who are more mature than she was. And it's not only the age. Dad's abilities as a Paladin are impressive – he is a master of that art. These formidable skills plus his earnest nature were a bait which my mom could not ignore. Hence, she wanted to be together with him. And so she practically followed every step he made.”  
“Nya-hah, this sounds like she was totally crazy or rather obsessed with him! Cute! He must really have been a good catch.” the Miqo'te hummed smirking. “Well, yeah, but he adored her already as the person she was... It was out of question to deny her wish from the very beginning. He had admired her from the distance before she was even aware of him.” “W-Woah, wait a second...! So, the real 'stalker' had been your father?!” the Bard asked with sparkling eyes.  
The Au Ra grinned embarrassed: “He was just shy and not sure how to approach her. He worried, that she might be a bit too young... Regardless he was yearning for her affection.” “This sounds like a beautiful romance. I think our guys here could see your father as a good example.” Annika stated before she glanced crestfallen at the four males. Carlos looked instantly incurious away, which made the Lalafell sulk obviously. Erik's, Bertram's and Estinien's long faces didn't bother her at all, while she was busy with glaring at the Blackmage.  
Tammy shrugged unperturbed: “Let the mages have their quarrel. Better continue with the story!” “Well, dad's concern vanished when he noticed mom's determination.” ,the maiden explained, “Telling her how he felt, dad mentioned he looked nonetheless for a true partnership. She was eager to prove him, of course, that her emotions were not shallowly. Thus, they tried a relationship. Well, two decades later, mom gave birth to me; she and dad still deeply in love with each other.”  
“Is your father nowadays okay? Has he accustomed to being solo again?” the Whitemage-Lalafell asked cautiously. “Dad is nowadays still as healthy as a fish in the sea; despite his remarkable age. If he was younger, I would try to push him into a date, but... It's his decision whether or not to look for somebody new. His happiness is all what counts; no matter which shape it takes.”

The women's conversation ended after these words.  
Midgardsormr tried to convince himself of being glad about it, since he found these talkative, continuous chatters quite exhausting to follow. But deep down, he knew the truth...  
He wanted to know more.  
He wanted to hear everything which was important for the maiden's odd personality. And slowly, the Methuselah experienced even some kind of joy while he payed attention to Tammy and Annika. The lively Miqo'te and calm Lalafell really acted like the group's mother and aunt. They were meanwhile very welcome to him.  
Perhaps, it was similar how he thought about Bertram.  
The Roegadyn had a sunshiny attitude, but he was not at all carefree. Firm as a rock, this wielder of sword and shield demonstrated seriousness when needed, but no harshness. While this man started now an earnest conversation about the difference between Paladins and Warriors, Midgardsormr realized how much he could accept Bertram in comparison to Erik.  
Maybe Carlos would also gain someday more than his bare tolerance...  
Once the dragon figured out, which characteristics truly lurked beneath the quiet charade...  
Thinking about it... While aforesaid Elezen seemed absolutely not interested into talking by himself, his cousin showed more enthusiasm. Estinien wasn't the most talkative man, but in return he was straightforward; a sharp-mouthed being and not afraid to say what he had in mind.  
The Azure Knight joined Bertram's discussion in order to utter his personal skepticism about wielders of the battle-ax. Ishgard was after all a place of holy knights who held lances and blades – not the playground of mannerless roughnecks who chopped each other. This blunt statement nettled the Warrior' leader. For a moment, Erik argued fiercely with Estinien.  
But as it was usual for them, the clash was no serious fight. Fast, their heated temper burned down; replaced by the typical companionship they shared. Somehow, both men ended up chatting about another topic than the Paladin-Warrior-question.  
“How's Alberic doing these days? Is your teacher not a bit bored, that he's no longer forced to watch after you? Since you behave now like a good boy who doesn't avoid Ishgard?” Erik asked grinning. The Elezen bestowed an evil smile upon the Hyur: “He is not my nursemaid. And on the contrary to your question, his work as a Lancer in Central Coerthas keeps him busy enough these days. Protecting the people was always his top-priority.”  
Nodding, the Warrior uttered: “Yeah, he's a good and tough guy... I wonder, who of us three would be the strongest combatant. I'm not that bad, when you press a lance into my hands, after all. Having said that, your mentor has because of his age a clear disadvantage.”  
A minimal amused chuckle escaped Estinien's thin lips. “Do not become cocky. Alberic has lots of experience. And if he wouldn't have passed the title to me, he would still be Ishgard's Azure Knight. He was maybe afraid to lose against Nidhogg's will in the Eye, but otherwise he is a strong man.” “Oh-hoh, the mighty Dragoon praises another being than himself. That's a rare thing to happen. Perhaps I should start writing a diary.” the Hyur laughed at Estinien.  
They debated for a while about Erik's downsides as a Lancer, before the Elezen admitted: “Well, there is a slight compliment I can give you, at least. Albeit I bet it will needlessly expand your ego... When I stood back then in Coerthas under the influence of the cursed dragon, your harshest blow had been a formidable strike. You knocked me out in an instant.”  
Midgardsormr noticed something strange.  
Not even a moment ago, Cecilia had listened to the two men with a jolly mien. But...  
Suddenly, she looked away from them. The happiness entirely vanished from her face. And a sigh left her mouth choked – so intense, as if the world's weight would completely lay on her shoulders. Was there something within these spoken words, which had the force to ruin her mood?  
Erik recognized her reaction, too. It distracted him for a modicum of seconds. Then, he focused once more on Estinien: “Told you I can handle a spear. Wearing heavy axes is a helpful training, guaranteed. You should try it one day.” “When I plan to become a rowdy, you mean.” the Elezen replied with a derisively expression. “Tss, you better stay away from La Noscea with this attitude. Limsa's inhabitants might behead even Ishgard's holiest knight if he insults them.”  
After the Hyur had complained, he cleared his throat. “I hope...” ,Erik began, “...you still give credit to Alberic and Ceci. Without them you would just have impaled me like a piece of meat with a fork. A Dragoon influenced by the Eye is definitely a troublesome challenge to beat...”  
Abruptly, Carlos uttered something: “Of course Nidhogg could manipulate my blockhead of cousin. When somebody as stupid as him runs around for a while without people by his side, surely a smart and tactical-adept dragon finds the right buttons to press. It was only luck that you guys could prevent any damage from occurring without Aymeric with you.”  
Estinien grabbed threatening his lance. “I do not know for which phrase I would rather love to hit this big loudmouth who's a mere walking chamber of horrors...!” the Dragoon hissed. “Heh Carlos, why do you mention the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights?” the Hyur wanted to know; ignoring the enraged Azure Knight entirely. “They are supposedly friends. Not the same way as we, since my cousin prefers being alone, but you can rely on Aymeric feeling responsible for him. Also, Monsieur Borel is the one who's at the most excited that Estinien returned to Ishgard.”  
“Aha... Odd info... The man is inept like a little boy to talk normally with Ceci because her optic resembles our scaly opponents... But he can handle Estinien as a friend... In other words, a puppy with it's tiny teeth hectors Aymeric more than a full-grown bulldog with fangs.” “THAT'S how you honestly compare the two of us? As pooches?!” the Azure Knight asked Erik indignant. Shrugging, an unperturbed reply followed: “You, man, resemble bulldogs a lot, yeah.”  
While the men began another fight of comrades, the Methuselah's attention drifted to Cecilia.  
Normally, she would either be worried or amused about her friends' skirmish. Mostly grinning since her trust into them was not shatterable. But since Estinien had mentioned this event in Coerthas, nothing seemed to distract the maiden from the sorrow which Midgardsormr didn't know.  
Her irises had an empty expression – staring into the fire, but not reflecting it's orange shimmer.  
The crystal and jewel rather resembled eyes of dead people; dry as sand and somehow flat.  
When they finally recovered, deep sadness dwelled conspicuously within them.

The mortals talked still for a while as the stars spread over the sky.  
Only slowly, the group drifted into slumber – one by one, they lay down for sleeping.  
Tammy vanished under her blanket, then Annika, Bertram afterwards, followed by Carlos and finally their leader Erik, so that only Cecilia and Estinien remained awake. She – entirely bound by her passion for magic – was reading another Astrology-book, while he – viewing himself as a guard – stared into the darkness with alert gazes. It was quiet since the Hyur had stopped talking, so only the noises of the wood buzzed hushed through the air.  
Midgardsormr leaned his head sideways against the blanket.  
With his right eye half-covered by the fabric, the fire had a soporific effect on him...  
“Can I steal a moment of your time?” the Azure Knight asked suddenly. The unexpected question perked the dragon's consciousness up, who glanced instantly awake at the maiden next to him. Lowering the pages, Cecilia gazed irritated at her companion. “What's the matter?” she said curious with the expression of an innocent child. The Dragoon harrumphed muted: “I have to correct myself as it seems... Can we talk for a moment in the forest? Just you and me?”  
The Methuselah raised his head in wonderment, as Cecilia's eyelids twitched a little.  
He knew the request was odd, anyways, but her first reaction to it was partly perplexing.  
On the other hand, the Raen kept per will distance to Estinien... He should not judge the discontent she felt, since her reason for evading this mortal was a mystery to him. And in spite of her efforts, the Au Ra stayed nevertheless politely enough to not refuse the favor she was asked for. Actually, she demonstrated pure naivety instead of questioning the intent: “Sure we can do. But if a monster attacks us, you will be the one to slay it.” “Sounds like a deal.” the Azure Knight nodded.  
When Cecilia stood up, the dragon was undecided what to do now...  
Eavesdropping a conversation which was meant for only two pairs of ears wasn't appropriate. Yet, he felt excluded by the bare idea to let the maiden go alone. And as she looked now with her big, pleading eyes at him, the Methuselah had neither the will-power nor the morale to stay behind.  
So, he sat on the Au Ra's shoulder down, when she began to follow the Elezen through the darkness. Gazing skeptical at Estinien, Midgardsormr wondered, why the Dragoon wanted to talk with her. Why – of all things – alone, when the environment was not as safe for mortals as cities; settlements. But it was surely something private, when he had waited for the other mortals to fall asleep...  
Although it was confusing to avoid the bare presence of the sleeping allies. Did the Elezen count on an unwelcome interruption of the conversation he wanted to hold? What could be so embarrassing or confidential, that no other mortal was allowed to hear it...? Not even so-called friends?  
When the Azure Knight glanced for a moment over his shoulder into their direction, the dragon followed that gaze in order to comprehend the Elezen's reason a little bit better.  
Surprisingly, it seemed as if Ishgard's cynical, narcissistic champion wanted to make sure, that especially the Warrior's leader wouldn't hear accidentally anything. The Dragoon's eyes searched in fact only for Erik. Strange... Too strange. Were they not close to each other? In their own, odd way? At least it always seemed that marauder and knight understood each other pretty well...  
What was so private, that Estinien did not even trust him?  
After a while, the Elezen stopped his movement. So did Cecilia, who seemed still unperturbed by the request to talk somewhere else than next to the campfire. For a moment, she looked expectant at her quiet friend. But Estinien was still facing her with his back – and spoke no single word. Patiently, she beheld him motionless until her interest vanished, wherefore she focused on something else. Probably in order to not push the knight accidentally...  
While her eyes roamed the environment, so did Midgardsormr's irises, too, as he couldn't recall when he had been here for the last time. He surely had visited Hraesvelgr occasionally in the past and seen some grandchildren who lived in this area, but... It was long ago...  
A little startled by her, he jerked, when Cecilia nudged him slightly.  
“Watch all these stars.” ,the maiden noticed lowly with a soft smile on her lips, “I can see several specific constellations which should not be visible at this time of the year. I bet the books I read weren't written by people who were lucky enough to enter Dravania in the last years.” Looking up, Midgardsormr regarded the shimmering sky like her. He had not much knowledge about these stars – for him, they were just other suns; far away from this planet. Albeit...  
The dragon found the sky this night somehow prettier than usual; and – in the same moment – somehow unsettling... Concretely, a bad feeling floated within him. Thanks to her mortal ally. Estinien's silence was oppressive. Therefore, the dragon beheld as a surprisingly real distraction, how Cecilia's index-finger drew invisible lines over the dark-blue sky. Several faint lights connected to simple figures, so that he started to imagine the pictures she might see in her mind.  
“Hey... Cec...”  
The sudden words dumbfounded both maiden and dragon.  
Irritation lay on their faces when they looked briefly at each other, before they payed attention to the Azure Knight. “Hm? Do you have decided to finally talk?” she responded innocent. A hint of honest concern flowed within her voice. Estinien sighed and turned around to her. His head leaned almost on his left shoulder, as he studied her face now.  
“Why do you keep such distance all the time to me, since we parted back then in Central Coerthas? Before these events in Ul'dah, I mean... Why do you... keep me away?” the man asked. She widened for a moment her eyes, but quickly regained her neutral mien. Too hard to read for the Methuselah... as well as the Azure Knight. The later tried one more time: “In Ishgard, I thought at first temporarily that you would treat me again normal... But I was wrong. Tell me, why.”  
“I just stick to the way how we two are. You are a sworn enemy of dragons. I am the contrary. Nothing wrong with keeping this in mind.” she replied almost cold and reserved. Short-spoken like Midgardsormr was not used from her. Making a step into her direction, the Elezen uttered irritated: “This can't be your true opinion...” Cecilia narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “We're different. I enjoy spending time with you – even now. But I don't want to reach ever again the personal level which our conversations had back then.”  
“As if we would always talk about private stuff...” Estinien tried to change her opinion, unsuccessfully. “I know it's likely to do more than idle chatting when you and I are talking like this. Only the two of us. It was never negligible.” the archmage stated unhesitating.  
“You distrust me, don't you...? You expect me to insult you again...?” the Azure Knight questioned; his mouth standing half open after this realization. His face marked by worry and scare.

She did not answer. Only her eyes spoke silently – and it was a clear response.  
It was appalling the Dragoon. He stepped closer to her; the steel-blue irises burning in sorrow.  
“I would never make true fun of you--- I don't even DARE to skit upon your weaknesses truthfully! Do not... treat you with scorn... like I do to other people...” the Elezen tried to justify a defamation he seemingly had committed back then – within these mysterious events in Central Coerthas Midgardsormr did not know about.  
Estinien's excuse, however, obviously did not reach Cecilia's condolence.  
The man's shoulders sank down as if a huge fault would lay on them. His normally recognizable, boastful pride vanished. “I must confess this... It was a heavy mistake when I condemned you for your ultimate decision to not kill dragons... But please... try to trust me again... You are the only one who I can't bear to reject me... Who I... need to believe into me...” he shrived unwillingly.  
“You just treat me in a special way because of Nidhogg's eye. If it wasn't because of its influence, you would surely hate me, Mister Dragoon. … We met – because of it. We fought side by side – because of it. If you would have not sworn to keep it save, you and I would be maybe not enemies, but surely no friends at all.” the maiden said finally. The Elezen questioned muted: “So this is now, what you think...? We became in your opinion friends by mere hazard?”  
Shaking his head slightly in resignation, Estinien admitted: “Okay, I really can't deny, that I spent in the past initially time with you because of that damned thing... As a primarily matter of business to not push an ally away who was somehow connected to all of this crap... But it is not for this orb, that I began to consider you as a closer friend than the few others I got. Honestly, I DO envy Erik for being your chosen brother...”  
Cecilia looked at the ground; the eyelashes fell partly over the open windows of her soul.  
It was impossible to grasp her mood now. Her mien revealed no single emotionally impulse.  
“Heh, I'm really, REALLY bad in these sentimental things... There's not much I can do about it when you become sad...” the Elezen mumbled helpless. Placed his left hand on the nape of his neck as if he wanted to rub it. The man obviously felt uncomfortable in this situation.  
“I was happy back then, you know?” ,she suddenly spoke lowly, “I was not yet a Warrior of Light when we met for the first time... When you recognized me as an equivalent fighter, it had a strong, unknown impact on me as nobody else before had done this. No other adventurer. Spending time with you in order to keep the Eye away from dragons was something I enjoyed truthfully...”  
Speechless, the Dragoon stared at her. “What has changed...?” he whispered.  
“I can't bear your ambition.” ,she uttered and looked directly at the knight, “The way you sacrifice everything and -one if it means to have your revenge. I judge you for this – not in a good manner. When Erik had joined us after you had accepted my new 'brother', I did slowly see more and more the darkness within you. But you showed it only to me. Hence, I want to avoid speaking with you on a personal level. As I seem to nettle your anger. And because I cannot free you again if the rage of the Eye takes you in your hatred once more over.”  
Estinien gasped: “That was when you had given up on me?! When you had a proof for your theory to provoke my rage...? B-But...! Everybody could have triggered this! Even Erik...! Ah... Wait... What... have you just now insinuated...? This last sentence – what does it mean?!”  
Once more, her gaze wandered down to the floor. But this time, her lids hid it after several seconds. For the Azure Knight obviously a clear sign: “I thought it had been Erik who was beating me...! You... You all were not telling me the whole story...! You boosted my bad memory of that moment with falsehoods! Alberic, Erik and you...! ... Then... Then it was also not for our enemies... but for--- No, rather BECAUSE of me... that you had for one last time done... Alberic's job...”  
Estinien's right palm landed on his helmet as if he wanted to hit his forehead.  
His facial expression was absorbed by shock, horror and guilt. What had he realized?  
“I remember now... When I was influenced, it hadn't been Erik who stopped me finally. Naturally, his strongest blow was overwhelming... But it wasn't sufficing to knock me totally out... I had... mobilized my last reserves... So I threatened to kill him and Alberic... Blinded by wrath and hatred, I lost my mind... That's when you... for the TRUE last time... acted as an A---”  
The following rapid motion appalled Midgardsormr.  
Quick as lightning, the maiden stepped forward; her right hand even faster.  
She pressed her palm so harshly onto Estinien's mouth, that she smothered his words entirely.  
“DON'T.” Cecilia spoke this single phrase with authoritarian sound. Hard and decided. Relentless. The Azure Knight gazed at the Au Ra with deep confusion; the dragon mirrored this doing partly. Her reflexes would have been noteworthy for a human, if the reaction itself would not hint to anger which he couldn't grasp. Why did she forbid her companion to speak...? Which kind of mortal terror had these two seen, that she denied her valuable ally to complete his sentence...?  
And how much did the Methuselah truly know about this chosen child...?  
Shaking her head a lot, the maiden uttered doleful: “I don't want to be labeled ever again as THAT... I do not, I DO NOT want this... I never was the right person for this job – and seeing you drowning in hatred triggered by an argument with me just demonstrated, how bad I am for your inner balance. If it could just be possible... I would simply resign our friendship. Because that one moment was enough to destroy the little bit hope I had placed into me. Being another type or rather the other side of the medal which you do epitomize... was never meant to happen.”  
Her palm lay still on the Elezen's mouth. It trembled a fortiori she spoke.  
When she began to remove it finally, Estinien took her hand instantly. Held it carefully...  
She gazed straight into the man's eyes. Sadness written in her odd-colored irises and her lips parted for a silent plea. An expression gut-wrenching enough to melt the heart of an embittered dragon. The knight cupped both hands around her own; he squeezed her fingers visible softly. The comfort he offered now was surely something what Estinien usually didn't airily consider for others...  
“Cec, this is...” he began, but fell silent as she struggled with the physical contact.  
Sighing, the Dragoon let go of her. “So you prefer conversations with me really like that? Impersonal? Without any deeper reason...?” He eyeballed Cecilia helpless – hoping for a negation. But she nodded instantly, which seemed to sadden this independent man. “Okay...” ,he mumbled, “When you fear so much to ruin my inner-balance, I can only appease you by following your wish. But I will always wait for you to change your mind once more. No matter how long it takes.”  
The Azure Knight led her after these words back to the bivouac.  
Arriving there, Midgardsormr watched irritated, how the maiden dove instantly under her blanket. She had not shown tiredness before, so her sudden decision to go to bed irritated him. Estinien, however, did not react at all to this odd behavior. He just placed himself next to the warm campfire. But then, she wished him a good night – and the Elezen replied with an acceptable phrase. Seemingly unconcerned by her hurry to sleep, yet not ignoring the archmage.  
The dragon was unsure how to think about this, but he was anyways tired, wherefore he followed Cecilia's example to lay down. Bafflement got him nevertheless – right in front of his needed sleep – when the full-armored Dragoon vanished just like that under the blanket as his cousin sat up. Avoiding Carlos who was busy putting a few branches into the fire, Estinien cared not at all for removing the heavy attire. Since both Erik and Bertram had taken a few pieces off, the disinterest which the Azure Knight demonstrated was deeply perplexing.  
For a short moment, Midgardsormr frowned, before he closed his weary eyes.

It must be the middle of the night...  
The distant call of an owl had woken him up.  
Darkness surrounded him almost – the campfire meanwhile reduced to a small flame.  
Raising his lids lazily, the Methuselah gaped at the still warming blaze. His vision was blurred – and he undecided, if waking completely up would make any sense now. The maiden next to him would surely not arise until the light of dawn touched her... Dormant, she lay under her blanket; only her head poked out of the fabric. He wondered, how it might be to share the bedding with her, since the girl's temperature was high enough to replace a fire...  
Squinting, Midgardsormr quivered. That again...  
'I refused it... I still refuse it... This will not happen...' he thought frustrated.  
Sleeping under his own small blanket was the right thing to do. Her naive wish might be at times manipulating him deeply, but giving in to this siren's melody was anyhow out of question.  
Focusing his eyes again on the fire, he was a bit startled when he noticed a motion.  
Ah... Somebody placed again some wood into the flame, wherefore it burned a little bit stronger. Maybe it was Carlos or this time Erik... Probably the former as that figure appeared tall for a Hyur. Not, that the dragon could see the person properly in his drowsy state. So he didn't care much. Factual, he wanted to drift back to sleep, as his corpus demanded more rest.  
But the awake mortal prevented him from following his impulse.  
The figure stood suddenly up from the place where he had been sitting. Doing so would not have any meaning for the dragon in an usual case – however, it was no normal instant. Straightforward, the mortal stepped slowly to the sleeping Au Ra. There was no mistake here. Widening the lids, Midgardsormr got instantly rid of his weariness. Fully awake, he stared with glowing eyes.  
It wasn't Carlos.  
After that man seemed to actually sleep with his armor, the Methuselah had really not expected from him anymore to doff ever a part of the metal. Yet, exactly that was what Estinien had done. Both bracers and helmet lay on the ground, where the Elezen had been sleeping before.  
Glaring skeptical at him, Midgardsormr watched the man kneeling next to Cecilia.  
It was odd... While the Dragoon beheld her motionless, the resemblance to his cousin was immense. Since Carlos did not wear his hat, the two could be in this moment brothers... Albeit one thing was clearly a strong contrast between them. Estinien hadn't black hair. It was silvery. Also, the 'mane' was not restrained – just as the cousin's hair – via something mortals called a longer pixie-haircut. Despite bangs, smooth strands fell partly into his face as they reached his shoulders.  
Compared to his hair, the Azure Knight's eyes weren't that pale. In fact, they seemed now even a bit darker than Erik's eyes. And with the silver flow around them, their hint of blue became stronger. More sapphire than steel, which studied now lost in thoughts the sleeping archmage.  
The man's mien looked depressed. No wonder... She had rejected his good will.  
Midgardsormr's sympathy vanished nonetheless instantly, when Estinien reached hesitantly out. Eyes glowing harsher, the dragon watched how these fingertips touched shyly Cecilia's right cheek. They glided cautious over her rosy skin and white scales. Similar to the way how a humane child caressed softly his little sibling when the later was yet a baby... It was a similar sentiment which appeared visibly in the Elezen's eyes. A concern so strong, as if he feared to injure her.  
Maugre his distraction, the man was an attentive being.  
He had noticed, that the 'puppet' next to them was conscious. So the mortal whispered: “Even a doll should agree with me... She is simply beautiful... If she would just not look like a humane dragon... You know, little toy... I do not mean her ears, scales and tail... I mean only her eyes...”  
Estinien's fingers wandered to her closed lids; brushed over the long lashes. The gesture was drenched in resignation... “They seem to ridicule me whenever I gaze into them... As if she was one of those ancient 'pangolins'... Of course she does not hate me... But her eyes tell me nevertheless, that she hates at least my actions... I miss the time, when she had hope left for me... Erik is so lucky to follow a path she seems to enjoy... A little sister like her is worth the world...”  
The dragon snorted lowly with sunken lids.  
He had heard several stories in Ishgard amongst the stay in the tavern...  
One of them was this tale: Estinien lost years ago his family in a fight. The parents; a little brother... Back then, dragons took several lives away, wherefore the boy was completely alone. That famous, tonight often enough mentioned Lancer Alberic – who had just retired from being the Azure Knight – decided to take care of the young Elezen. With nothing left but the loss of his dear relatives, Estinien swore revenge and became a Dragoon; later chosen by the Eye as it's next bearer.  
Considering, what he had lost, Estinien must have been glad when the maiden stepped into his life with her keen oddness, cordiality and caring attitude. She was not only an amusing being, but rather truthfully fascinating. Gambling her faith away had surely cut into his own self-confidence...  
With a gentle smile on the thin lips, Estinien turned away from her.  
“I wonder how smart you might be, little toy...” ,the Elezen began while he gazed at Midgardsormr, “She tinkers dolls like you with her fullest heart. They are loved a lot by their creator as well as those people granted with them... This reminds me... I saw her once sewing a teddy-bear for a child. The girl, who Cec made back then happy via that gift, still walks around with the bear by her side... Can you imagine, why...? The minion acts so lively like a real cub. Every stitch of the needle had turned it into an item with a soul, I suppose. The weaver's affection for her creation was completely embedded within this little furball...”  
Raising his brows minimal, the dragon tried to imagine this.  
He had seen, which artful wonders the maiden was able to cause when it came to simple repairing. So, how marvelous might then a result be, when the whole work was only based on her ideas...?  
Ears vellicating, the Methuselah gaped down at the floor. He hardly dared to picture this. Because – when he recalled her motivation to help this girl in Camp Dragonhead – he knew the magnetic pull would only become stronger when he found once more something to adore her for.  
The Elezen stood unhurried up; a chuckle minimal audible.  
“I recognize how dear you are to Cecilia. She treats you with even more love than her other dolls... Do you even grasp with your limited mind, how special you must be for her? Teh, albeit you are just an ordinary puppet, I envy even you for having a less complicated friendship to her than I do. Hopefully you realize somehow, that you own a piece of her affection.”  
Eyes wide open, Midgardsormr stared at the man, who just returned to his sleeping berth.  
The equanimous Elezen was rather the naive one – unable to grasp something...  
He had no idea, what his words caused to the 'puppet'...

Two days later in Dravania, the Warriors finished their tasks.  
Midgardsormr had tried within this time to forget Estinien's remark, but still struggled with that plan as long as the Dragoon was around. Luckily, that man went once more his own way, when the group returned to the Holy City. Back to their daily grind, too, the adventurers looked out for possibilities to support Ishgard's population. Cecilia was no exception, whenever her Astrology-studies did not tether her to her the guild, where she learned side by side with other magicians.  
Keeping the effect of that stirring phrase down, the dragon watched her usual effort.  
Nevertheless he would have been glad, when the maiden's wish to help wouldn't frequently attract the attention of dutiful knights... If they wanted to just take advantage of her or not, he couldn't tell, but whenever they found an option to ask the Au Ra for support, they did so. Their pleas led Cecilia often to leave the shielding stonewalls of the city, so Midgardsormr was often confronted with Coerthas' harsh weather or Abalathia's windy climate.  
She told him a few times to stay in her guestroom, but he refused always.  
If he didn't accompany her, he would not be true to his own words. The promise to Hydaelyn. Whenever he slept or was otherwise limited by his infantile dragon-corpus, the perhaps important moments he missed could already not be refunded. Therefore, he avoided to lose willingly time in the maiden's company while no urgent excuse existed.  
Especially, after Haurchefant visited her almost every morning and evening in the tavern... Midgardsormr wasn't detesting the Warrior-fan for adoring Cecilia especially, yet it would be much more upsetting if the maiden should suddenly develop affection for the good knight; unnoticed by his ancient consciousness. Not, that it was an awful thought...  
She would surely be happy to have a sweet-natured man by her side... Considering her romantic plus modest wish, the dragon hoped for her to gain this luck... But an Elezen could simply never be, what he was able to accept. Tolerance alone would already be a tough challenge...  
When Cecilia supported the Rose Knights in Abalathia for a single afternoon, his impression became even stronger. Because Alphinaud had decided to accompany her – and aforesaid one clearly honored the pledge to do the requested job together with her.  
Yes, the boy was thanks to his visible naivety and aristocratic behavior a little nuisance at times... But what really nettled the Methuselah was only the undeniable heritage... No matter how annoying the maiden's preference for her younger friend might be... In the end, the dragon suffered more under racism than the discrimination of every other fact that was troublesome about the teenager. While Erik deserved despisement simply for the personality of a gruff man, Midgardsormr refused Elezen solely because of their species when Cecilia showed fondness for them.  
And his bad luck did not leave the Methuselah.  
While the stay in Abalathia was just branded by frustration about the Raen's preference for Elezen, the following day promised to be worse. Once more, the icy Coerthas called for her ambitions... Although it were not the usual knights asking for help. Another troop sought assistance.  
It was about tracing a handful of heretics, who had attacked in the last days traveling merchants. Yesterday, the knights failed to imprison the criminals – they escaped. But amongst their flight, those men had injured one of Ishgard's Conjurers severely, wherefore the cavaliers needed for now somebody who could in the worst case replace their ally.  
Cecilia as a Whitemage was the perfect choice, so they begged her to join their quest.  
She hesitated first, since her personal duties focused currently on the job of an Astrologian. Hence, the knights promised she could follow her own detecting-strategy – as long as they could call her always per linkshell if necessary. They knew she was capable of fighting alone, so they encouraged the maiden to operate as their optional arm.  
With this manipulative trust of them, she accepted smiling.

“Edgar is really a rascal...” the Au Ra reflected amused; shaking her head notedly.  
“To fight for fun with another Chocobo and hurt the two of them within the process... Well, his bad. He can't come with me. His leg is too injured. The heretics would fry him in case we find them.” Cecilia sounded despite her words a little bit upset while she walked over the snow. The dragon floated through the air; minimal nodding as a response. He was distracted by her clothes...  
A black swan. The first and only thought her attire allowed. It was a counterpart to her snowy owl as Astrologian, but combined with her white-golden hair... The view was breathtaking... Dangerous, somehow, through the dark colors, yet an innocent sight. Not to forget her beloved Nirvana, which matched the dress's plumes via its shape. The golden leaves resembled feathers, after all.  
Estinien's words rang abruptly in his head – quivering, he bore their intensity down.  
How could they still stir him up...? Making him experience desperation? And sowing false hope? He wasn't all too sensitive... Empty promises should not touch him anyways... Blind trust was a trait he had given up long ago. Naivety a flagitious weakness. And every sentimentalities were in general a luxury he could not allow himself... Not in this area.  
Sighing, Midgardsormr flew suit behind the maiden who accelerated the speed.  
To look for clues of any heretical activities in Coerthas' Western Highlands was for sure no novelty, but they were close to Dravania... This specific part of the land had an... unpleasing effect on him. And this time, it was not triggered by the weather... The sky was only clouded today.  
While they wandered north through the frosty wilderness, soon his stomach wanted indeed to rebel. He had known very well, that his kind did often battle with men in this wasteland of coldness... But... To see now so many draconian corpses coated with snow; laying forsaken in their dead, unabated perfection between the cliffs and rocks... It made his heart clench painfully.  
And his breath became raggedly the more victims he saw.  
When they reached the highest part of the area – a clear graveyard of the countless deadly fights – his nerves couldn't take the terrible view any longer. He had sworn himself to repress all guilt, sadness and hatred as long as his remaining own children would not lose their lives in the war.  
Yet, he was still a living, breathing being with emotions and very own thoughts...! A father, in fact! A grandfather! And as such an existence, regarding so many wasted souls of his descendants – forever lost in the flow of time – was too much to endure!  
It was... It was...! It was impossible to incur more...!  
He fell on all fours down to the ground; next to one of the lost grandchildren.  
Although he could feel Cecilia's perplexed gazes in his back, he couldn't hold back anymore.  
His tiny feet clawed deeply into the snow as if they could reach the earth beneath and rip it apart. Simultaneous, he threw his head backwards and drew breath with the desperation of the survivor. When he opened his jaws, he let out a roar so loud; so intense like a fully grown dragon would do. He didn't care for the fact that he must be frightening her, because his emotions set his mind and especially calmness on destructive fire.  
“How can thou mortals destroy us over and over...?!?” ,he shrieked in emotional pain, “How often will thou repeat the sin thy ancestors have committed until thou stop...?!? How can thou betray us and forget everything we shared once...?!? Are we meaningless to thee...?!?”  
He ground his fangs loudly and hit the floor with his claws plus tail several times.  
Squinting the wet eyes, he spat blue fire down which burned all grass underneath the snow.  
“Traitors, all of thee!” ,the old dragon insulted mankind wrathful, “Thou lie; thou steal; thou hurt; thou KILL! Nothing and nobody is holy for thee! Thou just take everything and ruin everything...! All thou did and all thou will do in the future is meant to harm us...! We reached out for thee and were just betrayed in the end...! Thou always hated us...! Thou only want to erase us...!”  
He roared in pure terror and pain while drops glided over his cheeks.

“Not me... I would never want this.” a soft voice behind him whispered.  
Midgardsormr had almost forgotten the calming effect which the tunes of his docile companion had. It let him open the eyes again and look at Cecilia over his left shoulder. Tears fell from his face while he stared at her sad facial expression; while he sunk into these pitying irises. He barely dared to draw breath as the crystal and the jewel were tainted by purest agony.  
There was the siren's call again... But he felt no lie within it... When his open hatred did not frighten the maiden at all – did not even intimidate her... When there was only sorrow and pity for him... Perhaps, she would bear his wrath even if he turned it brutally against her. He was so lost in grief and consumed by animus, yet she stood there instead of running away.  
She could sense his powers lingering within this vessel, he knew it... Despite the strict limits which his current corpus gave, he would be able to destroy her soul if he just let go of his self-control... Nonetheless, his tears did not stop – and she came closer; affliction in her mien.  
The magnetic pull tore at him.  
“Are you honest...?” he addressed her whispering for the very first time informal.  
Nodding, she answered: “Yes. I don't want to erase you. I don't want them to destroy you.”  
Her eyes. He could see it in her lively eyes. The agony she felt while she uttered the last sentence. Never was there a mortal of the new generations before who would suffer under the dragon's pain. Never had a young man experienced horror while imagining Ishgard to win the war. And never, NEVER had a mortal maiden feared to lose the 'monster' that 'tortured' her kind.  
This 'you'... This beautiful 'you'...!  
He didn't care anymore, that she was no dragon at all.  
Midgardsormr broke down in tears right in front of the girl. Sobbing like a baby-dragon, he went into her direction. Before she could react to him, he jumped; aiming for her upper part of the body. Cecilia caught his tiny corpus promptly like other mortals did catch their children, so her arms embraced him welcoming while he huddled crying with squinted lids against her chest. Following, she kept his labile psyche safe as she just held him tightly and fondled his long neck.  
The brute rage within him vanished under her unconditionally care.  
Hence, the Methuselah let out all the fear and mourning he had oppressed so far.  
After a few minutes of shedding tears, calmness and peace began to cover the negative feelings.  
“Please forgive me my informality and lost manners...” he mumbled accompanied by a loud sniff; opening the eyes for the first time in her arms. She simply smiled and touched his right cheek with these tender fingers she owned; giving him a feeling he didn't know. “Don't be again polite, please. It's wonderful when you address me like a real friend.” she begged him shyly a few seconds later, while her sensual touch took his breath away. It was like losing all air in his lungs, but pleasantly instead of frightening him. He had never experienced a similar situation before...  
A sudden roar destroyed the moment.  
Hectically, Midgardsormr glanced over her shoulder in order to see the threat which had arrived. Cecilia, however, pressed him protective against herself just when he had located a large dragon of the same race like all the corpses on the ground. Gripping the Nirvana with her free hand, she said with a stern expression: “Bad timing, mister. This here is private. So, would you please leave us instead of considering an attack? I'm not in the mood for useless fighting.”  
The stranger didn't listen to her. Of course he didn't. Why should he do this, after all...  
Midgardsormr knew, that it had to be his own fault when this descendant appeared here and now. Noticing his painful scream from before was the same natural talent like the ability to hear the song of the first brood. Surely the youngster here didn't see an appropriate dragon who could have roared with the fervor of the oldest ancestors, but the visitor did see a mortal with a baby of his own kind. Counting one plus one together was the easiest task for all living creatures...  
For this reason, the descendant wanted to free this tiny fellow...  
The archmage dodged with stone-spells the fire which showered now down on them.  
She really didn't want to fight dragons – oh, he knew it so well that it hurt him to watch the battle. And although he should be grateful to her for trying to keep his grandchild safe from needless harm, he was instead angry with the youngster to attack an innocent maiden. Didn't he see, that the 'baby' was not struggling against the mortal?! Didn't he see, that the 'baby' was just fine...?!  
Powerful anger boiled expeditiously within Midgardsormr.  
And his eyes glowed brightly, when the grandchild darted anew at Cecilia.  
The tutelary thoughts just escaped him: 'NO!!! Thou will not dare to harm MY girl!!!'  
His telepathically words with a toxic undertone intimidated the dragon, as he recognized the might which lay within the sentences immediately. Unsettled, the youngster stared at him in his hilarious, tiny shape that didn't reveal the identity of its owner. Midgardsormr didn't fear to be recognized, since this grandchild had never met him before, so he eyeballed the descendant fearless.  
It took twenty seconds, but then the youngster flew finally away.  
Letting the air sustained out of his nostrils, the Methuselah lowered his lids.  
While his eyes became dim again, Cecilia was relieved: “Puh, that was a narrow business... Although I wonder, why he stopped the attack plus left us all of a sudden.” He sighed and looked up to her pretty face. Not cogitating, the old dragon uttered: “I couldn't accept it, how he ignored you... So, he listened perhaps to my words.”  
“Then I have to thank you. But what did you tell him, that it was enough to stop a raging dragon?” She looked curiously at him, which awakened embarrassment about his possessive statement. Midgardsormr hid his heating face instantly in the crook of her neck. “I just... told my grandchild, that he shouldn't hurt you. That's all...” he murmured with reddish cheeks.  
Cecilia's smile was audible: “You have no idea, how glad I am about your care...”  
Her whispered words caused a wave of acute electricity to flow over his spine.  
But it was the hand on his neck, which made him finally quiver.

The room was colder than usual.  
Yet, the small fire in the chimney was no nuisance in his eyes tonight.  
With benevolent gazes, the dragon watched as Cecilia put her blue nightgown on.  
Sitting on the carpet, Midgardsormr waited patiently for the maiden to continue her monologue about sewing. A topic he had started willingly after she ate her late dinner. Somehow, he felt like owing her this attention... It was the only idea he could have come up with because of his pathetic little knowledge considering her past. Albeit he regretted minimal, how Estinien's positive words about her creations had inspired this try to approach the Au Ra as a friend.  
However, he answered her smile, when she sat down onto the bed.  
It was still unbelievable... Since today, he addressed her in an informal manner...  
'No, it is not impolite... She calls it 'personal' – and so should I.' he rebuked himself.  
Cecilia proceeded the explanation with clear passion. Only in the very moment her words fell silent the Methuselah opened his mouth again: “So, thou--- YOU have a master in Ul'dah who caused this exaltation for sewing... Thus I presume he is also the reason why you became a crafter in general?” She nodded: “Yeah, Redolent Rose inspired me to try other disciplines. He encouraged me a lot, too. At first I stayed in Ul'dah – the guild for Goldsmiths is quasi next door to the Weaver's domain; Alchemists gather upstairs, as you know – but soon I set out for Gridania and Limsa.”  
She smiled brighter: “However, my first three attempts will always be my favorites. Nostalgia, see? Even thought I prefer the Black Shroud over Thanalan.” The Raen giggled softly in amusement. Midgardsormr closed embarrassed his eyes, albeit he chuckled a little. Her modest joy was infectious... No matter how unsettled he was considering her effect on him, any positive sentiment she showed him kept his own negative feelings locked away.  
His hilarious large ears winced, when she put her legs on the mattress.  
“You want to sleep.” the dragon noticed; it was not intended to be a question.  
The archmage nodded slightly. Indeed she looked tired... Rubbing the jewel-eye with her left hand, she stated: “For my standard it's a little bit early, I know. But even if I can probably not fall asleep immediately, cuddling into the cushion sounds like a good plan.” This phrase triggered something within the Methuselah... An impulse that was impossible to resist...  
He gazed motionless at the maiden while she pulled the blanket over her legs. But when she began to sink down with the upper part of her body, he moved his own corpus, too.  
Her eyes were widened in surprise as she gazed at him.  
“You also want... to sleep?” she said; asking him with a minimal higher pitch of her voice.  
A low, still satisfied chuckle vibrated in his throat as he studied the priceless perplexity in her mien. In this unusual position, Midgardsormr actually looked down, since her head lay in the cushion while he sat upright on the bed... His lids fell partly down in relaxation, as he thought now about it. His impulsive action did still not frighten him at all. To crawl on the mattress while she lay here would normally have never occurred... Yet, here he was. Unafraid. Hence, he stretched all limbs and curled his body into a perfect circle on the sheets – not far away from her face.  
“Yes...” he finally responded to the maiden's question.  
Also, he answered even to his own wonderment. Yes, the dragon knew that he betrayed his decision. Yes, he changed his mind although he had sworn himself to not share the sleeping berth with her. And yes, he lost his face or rather dignity through this action. But it would be nothing else than a lie, if he pretended to regret his doing now.  
The clear confusion in Cecilia's eyes vanished. Instead, a smile spread over her face.  
Both crystal and jewel sparkled when she murmured: “How come I am today so lucky?”  
Hesitantly, Midgardsormr raised his head and came closer to hers. “I can't name a single reason.” ,he shrived, “I asked myself today a few times why I lost my self-control when we saw all these corpses of my descendants... There should exist nothing which makes me so easily sentimental plus mental weak while my own remaining children are alive... But it nevertheless happened. Therefore... I feel like being not honest to myself when I ignore this moment of my weakness entirely and simply move on as if nothing has changed.”  
She beheld him after his words with a knowing, serious expression in the irises.  
“If you describe it that way... can I expect from you to think of us as friends?” Her direct question was similar to a sharp blade cutting promptly into his flesh. Once more her distrust seemed stronger – rather more present than his own... Nonetheless, this odd wisdom and comprehension she owned were two of the many countless aspects which drew him to her. And it was her right to impugn him, since he made never a secret of his doubts for mankind.  
Cautiously, he placed his head onto the cushion. Resting like a child next to the Raen.  
This alluring scent of peach-blossoms tickled his nostrils. He inhaled deeply; knowing it was hers.  
Midgardsormr's eyes glowed with the soft intensity of a candle when he replied: “I did not deny you my friendship starting from the very beginning. You are chosen by Hydaelyn. So, thus it is Her will, I could never dare to harm you or those who you consider to be allies. But it is also my own will, that I keep this promise. Somehow, your humble wish of peace gives me the hope I thought I would have lost... back. And not only that... I really desire to see you make the miracle happen.”  
Worry glided over her face. Childish concern; a lack of self-confidence.  
The Methuselah couldn't help but smile gently as he saw this. Such a sweet view...  
Beholding her with dim, loving eyes, he finally wanted to know it... How the feeling might be like... If he let the word just roll over his tongue, he would no longer have to yearn for joining her friends – wouldn't be so easily jealous for every little thing occurring between the mortals...  
Midgardsormr smiled softly in the moment she misunderstood his lightened mood. Seemingly, Cecilia interpreted it for malicious joy about her tentativeness. Her instantly furrowed brows and blushing cheeks were delightful amusement; not for his awful humor as an old male, but for his soul plus the raddled heart beating in the vessel's chest. He found bliss in her which he could not explain with any rules of logic or morale. She just... made him happy.

“Cecilia.”  
Her irises became so big as if a child saw something it thought to be impossible.  
So... She knew it. That he addressed her in this moment for the very first time by this name...  
Midgardsormr could hardly bear down the impulse to laugh thanks to her reaction. While she batted the eyes for several times, the dragon watched her confusion with fullest pleasure – too amused by her following weak try to respond something. Her lips opened and closed like the mouth of a fish thrown out of the water, but not a single sound escaped them.  
Not considering anything, the Methuselah placed his right 'hand' on her chin. Stopping her motion. While his 'fingers' made cautiously contact with her bottom-lip he said muted: “No banter. No hoax. I do really not want to give you the runaround. Nor to play with your emotions. I only... intend to demonstrate for you, that I do not think of you as a means to an end.”  
Fore- and middle-finger of hers tapped hesitantly against his back of the 'hand'.  
“I find it hard to grasp you now.” ,she told him lowly, “You are not as open and direct as I would normally wish for; considering ancient beings. I got used to that... But especially when you do ANYTHING that should strengthen a friendship, it feels somehow wrong as it comes from you.”  
Nodding, he took her fingers carefully into his 'hands'. Beholding them with sunken lids, Midgardsormr murmured: “I know I speak not enough with you... I rather am and act like a shadow – it was originally intended to be this way when I accompanied you. Thus... all I can do is to change even if it's for now strange to experience this. And all I can ask is to have patience with me.”  
The maiden chuckled gently. “And where is the novelty here? I wait all day for words from you.” “Maybe this is something I do not expect from mortals... The wish for communication.” he admitted and ran his right 'hand' over her palm. “At least not before I knew you.” the dragon added softly. His eyes searched for hers; glimmering in red when they found her sweet expression.  
“I always wonder, if you will act forever like a puppet around my friends, but I never dared to ask. Albeit I guess I know already, what your answer is...” she stated sheepishly. Closing the lids, it was still difficult to respond: “I am not meant to interfere with them. Nor you, in fact. But I lost face today in front of you. Actually I did this in the very first second I met you. So... Perhaps. One day, this can change. They could deserve trust. Albeit I rather do not reveal to them who I am.”  
Erik, though, seemed to know much more than he should. This was another case...  
Yet, the Methuselah wanted not to tell her now, that her 'brother' came from another world.  
“Thank you, that's much more than I hoped for. I guess they'll---” a yawn cut the maiden off.  
He looked perplexed at Cecilia, while she caressed his long ears. Tiredness spread over her face, still she fought it visibly in order to stretch the moment. It was hard to believe she had trouble with accepting the moment's reality. “Try to sleep.” the dragon said earnest; half an order, half a plea. Feeling troubled that of all things SHE doubted and was therefore afraid to lose consciousness.  
He should distrust. He should hesitate. Should flee, to be honest.  
But her bare presence caught him. It just needed to see the slight darkened rosy color of her cheeks to bind the Methuselah to her. As if this wasn't enough, Cecilia nodded shyly like a little child under his demanding expectation; embarrassing him with her cuteness.  
While she closed her eyes, the maiden squeezed carefully his right 'hand' with thumb and forefinger. The touch was calming... Bringing his gloomy thoughts to rest. Lids narrowed, he chuckled – answering the gesture gently. Holding the index-finger as tightly as possible. He didn't let go of her, so Midgardsormr sensed as the next minutes passed by, how she fell asleep.  
'My girl...' he thought enchanted. Blushed, when he noticed that once more the possessive phrase had crossed his mind. But nobody could hear it this time, wherefore the little sin was hidden from the rest of the world. The eager descendant today had no idea who he was, so this boy did not count. It was unlikely, after all, to pay for the misstep when that youngster considered him to be new, too. Children and partly teenagers enjoyed leniency in all nations and tribes of the world.  
Drawing circles with his 'fingers' over her whole hand, he wondered, what his son would do now... Hraesvelgr had a strong connection to Shiva, albeit he had been in general sensitive when it came to mortal creatures. He was far better in handling sympathy or rather affection for humans. For him, the time of peace had been the happiest period of his life, thus he cared not for some dragon's fear. Before Ishgard had betrayed them all, Hraesvelgr faced distrust with kind-hearted courage.  
'A strength I do not own.' the father of dragon-kind thought depressed.  
If an older descendant would have heard him today... Old enough to know him...  
Sighing, he leaned his face against her hand. In the condition which his little corpus had right now, never would he be able to shield this precious maiden. Nidhogg's brood would crush her instantly, should they learn about her meaning to Midgardsormr. He would not have to apologize for living as a spirit and puppet albeit his true body had died, yet his weakness for a human would be despicable. Enough, that Cecilia would have to pay for this. With her life.  
He needed to recover faster. Even Edgar as a simple big bird could protect her more impressive.  
And even though Midgardsormr was clueless how to name his sentiment for her, he refused losing to a recalcitrant Chocobo who pecked him just because the bird was not fooled by the doll-charade. When a silly being with a short lifespan had more physical power than an ancient dragon, the world should instantly crumble like a rotting leaf. Cheeks a bit puffy, the Methuselah snorted frustrated by the returning memory of Edgar's beak hitting him. This awful white 'chicken'...  
His mind stopped short when Cecilia gave a soft tune in her sleep.  
Lids sinking down, he pressed his face stronger against this silky hand – seeking her palm.  
There had been this moment in Central Coerthas. When he was losing his mind for a tiny moment. The maiden had noticed his doing as some kind of mean joke of an old man... But now she slept... and he was the only witness who would burden his consciousness... Breathing harshly out, Midgardsormr couldn't contain the longing anymore.  
Softly his mouth made contact with her skin.  
His lips caught a bit of the maiden; savoring the pleasing feeling of her warmth. Cautiously sucking, the tongue tipped against the flesh so he wouldn't make her too moist. She tasted sweet... Just as sweet as peaches... If her smell like such blossoms was already deeply alluring for his old senses, the flavor of the fruit under his sinful touch was bewitching... Muted, a groan escaped the mouth, while he couldn't help anymore but slowly lick with pressure over her palm.  
Eyes squinted, he let the awareness of this sin crawl over his whole body.  
All the guilt and agony; all the confusion and yearning.  
He seemed unable to learn from mistakes, too... Just as humankind...  
The dragon wanted to keep harm away from Cecilia the more he was drawn to her... And the closer he came to her, the more his strange longing demanded... More physical contact with her hands; more true faith of hers into him... He was just as cheap as Edgar to yearn in animalistic naivety for her attention... For a word or a touch... But fighting the need was ultimately impossible.  
Placing a fondly kiss on her index-finger, the Methuselah made a humble wish... Her happiness. Nothing more. Only that occurring. If she would be happy one day, he would be so, too.  
This was all satisfaction he needed. All redemption.


	10. Chapter 10

# Chapter Ten

Smelling something was the first impression he got... Heavy aroma of old paper...  
When his mind rose from a nap, the dragon knew despite the dizziness instantly where he was.  
It was welcome, though, since he held on to Cecilia's right boot the last time he had been awake – freezing like usually thanks to Ishgard's cold air. Waiting for her to cure a few homeless children and bringing warm meals for their sickish parents... Coming back to senses in the Astrology-guild soothed his bad feeling to catch a cold, even if the place itself meant a bit of tedium.  
Opening the eyes lazily, he saw the maiden.  
She was reading a book – the tome lay on the same rustically desk on which he had slept until now. A silky, purple scarf had been placed under him; typical for the considerate Au Ra. She had done something similar in the morning, when she put the blanket over him in the moment she stood up. Midgardsormr hadn't been fully awake then, yet this memory was engraved into his mind. Just as... these 'wicked' things he had yesterday done to her before sleep threw him into insensibility.  
The recall of his sin made him blush; looking away from the busy Raen.  
His eyes roamed the guild – noticing how quiet it was.  
Not many magicians were currently around. They whispered to eat dinner soon in two hours. Considering this, the mortals decided to go to the marketplace, since a side-dish was yet missing. One of them mentioned to be allergic to a specific kale, so the others reacted with small frustration because finding a replacement would be troublesome.  
The little group left the building, while Cecilia took the thick text into her hands.  
His attention drifted back to her as she leaned now against the backrest. In the shape of a loud hiss, the air left her nose abruptly. It was probably a complicated book, albeit lots of pages had been already consumed by the archmage. There was a trace of chagrin in her mien... Furthermore, familiar maturity of his own kind loomed over her head again... Watching this happening always made the Methuselah wonder, how related Au Ra and dragons might be...  
Creaky, the guild's door opened. Directing his focus on the person who entered.  
An Astrologian dressed in a long garb walked into the room. Snow fell from the eye-catching hat; confirming the icy weather outside, although no wind blew at the moment. Aforesaid headgear overshadowed the face of the mage. But still he could tell, to which species the visitor belonged, because he noticed a white, saurian-like tail. It was a simple exemplar – not as ornate and slender as the one he was used to – yet quite long. Not, that the dusky-pink hair wouldn't be impressive, too... In two very long strands, it swung through the air. Overreaching the end of the back.  
Surely this mage was a woman.  
The Astrologian came to Cecilia's desk – indeed a female, who was as large as the maiden. Her face resembled the archmage's, but there were more scales on the cheeks. They spread under the eyes. Mentioning them: There existed also no second iris within the eyes, which were just as antique-rose as the long hair. Plus, this skin of the visitor appeared rather brown than rosy...  
Probably this Raen was a bit older than Cecilia, but he couldn't tell for sure.  
And albeit his capacity for remembering mortals was still not on a good level, he memorized to have seen her conversing in the last weeks often with the maiden. They seemed... familiar. Comparable to childhood-friends; as much as he was able to grasp the affection. Sympathy between humans showed much earlier blooms than a dragon's trust into strangers would allow.  
“I'm so proud of you, Ceci.” the woman hummed softly.  
The maiden stopped short and looked up from the tome with questioning eyes. She had presumably not noticed the arriving magician... Her quick glances into the guild reassured the Methuselah about his speculation, because the 'sudden' absence of the other Astrologians seemed to irritate her a bit. Nevertheless, she payed immediately attention to her fellow. Studying her pensive.  
“Augustine? I thought Leveva would have asked you to travel soon to Sharlayan in order to get some materials for her. At least it seemed to be an urgent business.” Cecilia stated unfazed. Happily, a self-confident response followed: “Hah, already done with that! Do not worry. This master-student is quick as a flash. Also, you know me. I could never let her down, after she sacrificed so much for this guild. It's the least I can do in return for the knowledge she gives us Ishgard-amateurs.”  
The maiden chuckled a little. It was slightly devilish.  
“I would never dare to call you an 'amateur'.” she said with glistering eyes. The Astrologian smiled and bowed down: “It's an honor to enjoy such a high opinion.” “I'm just honest. Nothing more.” “Sure, but you could keep that thought still for yourself.” the young woman noticed grateful. At first the archmage was nodding with a serious mien, but quickly it softened to an adorable grin.  
Her friend stretched the arms a little and took following the large hat off.  
While she placed this thing onto a stool, Midgardsormr studied her face attentive. This woman truly resembled Cecilia's physical features a lot, even if the minimal different skin and more scales might distract the beholder partly. He wondered, if the archmage and her friend would look like twins, assumed their tails and hair-color could be identical.

The dragon frowned, when the Astrologian leaned abruptly down.  
She nuzzled her head against Cecilia's right cheek. Like a purring cat would do.  
“Are we again flirting with me?” the archmage asked casually with raised brows. This seemed not – in any aspect – to be new for her... The disinterest of her question was alarming for the Methuselah. “Just a tiny bit.” ,the woman said lightly, “I know you are not searching for somebody right now. And I would not dare to steal Haurchefant a possible place by your side. He's everybody's darling, after all. Also my favorite old friend in the city. But I DO nevertheless care for your well-being. While you are not in a relationship, there's no need to be alone-alone.”  
Sighing, Cecilia mumbled: “I'm not in the mood for playing again with other girls...”  
“Which is sad, because I enjoy the androgynous part of yours.” the Astrologian stated; still so close to that inviting cheek as if she didn't consider leaving this place at all.  
'Androgynous...?' the dragon repeated in his mind. Was that how humans thought of the archmage? What a discrimination for this brave life... She was not girlish, like mortals might say, yet she acted always caring towards other people. As a sister would do, actually.  
“Ceci, I'm happy that you are who you are. Your heart of a hero is wonderful.”  
Otherwise motionless, the maiden narrowed her lids, when her friend placed a kiss on her cheek. Midgardsormr, on the other hand, was in two minds about this moment. It was even for an old being like him a thrillingly view to see two mortals of such beauty close to each other... However...  
His jealousy burned like a fire in his chest.  
In the past, he would probably have approved two women adoring each other, as females were – like the archmage had once stated – in the eyes of dragons the better mortals. That was indeed true... But he could not give his blessing to this, when one of them was the maiden...  
Aforesaid one snorted, when the Raen tried to kiss her on the mouth.  
With outstretched hands which still held her book, she kept the woman on distance.  
“Augustine, exactly that heart of mine the reason why I do rather consider a partnership with a man than a woman. I don't want to be the 'guy' in a relationship. I'm feminine, basta.” she uttered sternly. “Hm... If I could be more masculine, would you then give me a chance? At least for a little period? So I could call you 'mine'?” the Astrologian asked directly as children would do. Skepticism visible, Cecilia furrowed her brows anyhow in confusion: “How do I have to understand this...?”  
Simultaneously, she and Midgardsormr jerked in shock.  
Because the Astrologian simply grabbed the archmage's head and kissed her lips.  
“You are precious to me. That's how you have to look at it.” ,the magician said straightforward with severe gazes into Cecilia's widened eyes, “Haurchefant cares deeply for you; and knows you much, much longer than I do. So I don't count on luck. All I can dream of is being your date for a while. And believe me: I would gladly be that. Even a toy for you, if you would be the kind of a person who abuses others for fun.”  
Grinding loudly the teeth, Cecilia stared at her fellow-Astrologian.  
“Why has a cute, attractive woman like you nothing better to do than chasing a blockhead? Forsaking carefully considered ideals was never a real strength of mine... How can you seek partnership with such stubbornness?” she wanted to know; anger suppressed.  
The insulted one smiled enchanted: “Hihi, good question! Sadly, I have really no idea, why I feel like a metallic screw pulled to the magnet. But that's how it is. And everybody who feels like that for another person is a fraidy-cat when he or she does not stick to this real emotion. We are alive. That's why denying own feelings is awful and wrong.”  
Midgardsormr twitched as he listened to this tiny speech. His sentiment was probably also based on deep sympathy, albeit he was unillumined which kind of affection it might be. Though he grasped the fatherly aspect, the rest of the dynamic irritated him nonetheless.  
He was not as emotional-wise as this woman...  
“Honestly, Augustine... This is madness...” the maiden sighed and shook her head with closed eyes. “You are allowed to punish me for my actions.” ,her friend said felicitously, “For this last one, additional, you can behead me if you want to.” Cecilia snapped the eyes quickly open in realization, but just when she gazed at her senior, it was again too late.  
The Methuselah glared shocked at the unabashed woman who kissed the maiden once more.  
Both hands of aforesaid traitor lay on Cecilia's beautiful face. The Astrologian forced clearly visible the archmage to part the lips. Anger colored Cecilia's cheeks darker while her lids fell partly down in affliction. But the sweetness within the reckless gesture of her friend would even be obvious for blind humans. The maiden was defenseless against the sign of affection – giving this time in to it. Closing the eyes, she let the Raen demonstrate her fondness.  
Their mouths began to dance tenderly with each other.  
Midgardsormr sat upright on the scarf – being paralyzed by both jealousy and ecstasy.  
He knew about Cecilia's weakness for females – and he could not condemn this weak-point. Especially not, as the maiden thought clearly highly of her senior and vice versa. When true respect connected such women, it was suddenly easy to imagine those dates she had mentioned to be part of her past as a teenager... 'Nothing serious' appeared somehow sweet...  
These two here, at least, were obviously close to each other. Comparable to sisters. Both females were like a pair of roses – beautiful and no lie. If there would not be that ugly feeling inside of him, this Augustine could be the first mortal who he maybe wanted to be with the maiden.  
She was no Elezen and not too old; no male being, at the most.  
She was nothing he would call... a rival.  
His corpus was stiff as he watched the passional kiss.  
When he heard a tiny moan from the maiden, he couldn't help but groan inwardly. It caught him... There was no escape; he could not even close the eyes for letting them have privacy. The archmage shivered a little – held the book in her hands so tightly that he could hear her nails scratching it. When Augustine's tail-tip brushed over Cecilia like a cascade, her whole corpus trembled stronger. As if she was desperately begging for more or less – he could not say, which one – her right hand released the door-stopper and grabbed the chest of her senior.  
Such need was a conflicting view to behold...  
The memory of the odd moment in Western Coerthas; in this cellar, reached his mind. He wondered, if he could have over-strained Cecilia in a similar way like Augustine did now to her. In case that... he wouldn't have stopped that touch... Would the maiden have showed him akin vulnerability?  
Goosebumps spread over his back when he imagined this picture.  
However... Maybe he and the Astrologian shared the magnetic pull to Cecilia, because the woman was just as the maiden related to his kind. The species Au Ra had perhaps not only physical ones, but also mental similarities... At least this would definitely explain, why he felt no explicit wrath when she did something to the precious maiden, what he couldn't do...  
Somehow, the Methuselah appreciated the bold actions of Augustine... She brought the maiden to an emotional condition he had never experienced before while watching Cecilia. Thus, the Astrologian was his means to an end... He wanted to know all parts of Cecilia's nature; honestly all...  
“I will hit you for this... Going against my will is indictable...” the maiden whispered harshly with partly opened lids, when Augustine let her a short moment to draw breath. Her cheeks were reddish when her friend continued the kiss, but this time the odd-colored eyes did not shut down once more. The lusterless windows to her soul spoke a clear language: She was angered like a dragon.  
Midgardsormr felt bad to side with the Astrologian because of simple egoism...  
So he lowered his head in candid shame...

The chimney in the guest-room was in any aspect a nice place for dozing.  
Hence, the dragon lay convoluted on the tray which had been installed on the stony construct.  
As he paid despite the drowsiness partly attention to his environment, he noticed the changes around him. It became dark outside – the last orange rays of the sunset lightened the chamber. Dinner had been early today; considering the mortal's opinion. Erik was cooking 'nothing special', albeit all adventurers had eaten so much that not a single bite was left in the end.  
Aforesaid meal had been especially welcome to Cecilia.  
That Au Ra who ate nothing beginning with this... odd conversation with her Astrologian-friend... which concluded in slapping the daring woman right across the face. Since then, the maiden was somehow gloomy and had put her nose nonstop into the thick text. The result to this doing appeared to be tiredness and eye-ache. In other words, she had barely been able to keep the exhausted irises open during dinner howbeit she wasn't sleepy at all.  
The dragon wasn't all-knowing, but he was sure this trait respective the book hadn't been healthy. Therefore, watching her finally eating something had calmed him a lot. At the most, because he felt conspicuously blamable for the violation of her dignity through the hands of her senior...  
While the maiden upbraided him not at all, he knew he could have done something.  
Just because Cecilia didn't say or expect anything, his remorse wasn't unburdened.  
Anyhow, she did right now something to relax her body.  
But it was not as simple as ordinary rest. She called her off-key actions 'Yoga'. Wearing only short, black-white trousers with small golden sparkles on the black fabric plus a simple, silver bikini-bra, she practiced movements which reminded the Methuselah of Monks.  
As she stretched herself amongst one motion, she said casually: “Erik taught me a few exercises which I can combine very well with mine. Albeit his movements come from another culture and have less to do with peaceful training. They are orientated to keep a warrior healthy and flexible. ... Did I tell you? He's actually a Pugilist. His skills with the sword and bow seem also to be not bad, albeit he refuses demonstrating us detailed insight of him as swordsman. I wonder why.”  
The Au Ra continued her doing.  
Meanwhile, Midgardsormr reflected silently on her words. The gruff Hyur seemed to be much more than one would at first expect from him... He was a talented fighter, a formidable executive-chef and not to forget a man from another world... His soft spot for Chocobos plus the maiden as a 'sister' was also a trait as unbelievable as the Marauder himself...  
If he would just not disgust the dragon with this awfully uncaring attitude...  
The sun vanished now completely from the sky; leaving a dark-blue horizon with its stars behind when no ray illuminated the vastness. Then, only the chimney's fire brought light into the chamber – adding a somniferous effect to that old room. In spite of the archmage who still enjoyed her activity, the dragon felt like losing consciousness...

A sudden knock on the door prevented him from falling asleep.  
Raising the lids partly, he watched how Cecilia went to the wood and opened it.  
He shared her surprise manifestly, when they discovered who dared to visit the maiden.  
“Augustine. How come you're here?” she asked perplexed as her friend threw her a curve.  
Her fellow Raen wore no longer the striking garb of an Astrologian. Instead, her corpus was hidden by an ordinary dress which matched Ishgard's mere population of servants... The two pigtails with their cheeky charisma were also gone by comparison to before. Orderly, the long hair dangled from Augustine's head with some kind of a depressive 'aftertaste'.  
“Not to mention your clothes...” Cecilia added – being as irritated as the Methuselah was.  
She studied her friend with cynical eyes that revealed her distrust as well as choked concern.  
“Can I... come in?” the Raen asked instead of answering. “Sure...” ,the archmage stepped aside, “...albeit it makes no sense how you're dressed. I thought you hated the look of a 'simple woman born to the poor side of the medal'. If I am allowed to quote your own words.”  
When the door was closed behind her, Augustine made no further step. Was motionless as a statue. The maiden eyeballed her friend repeatedly with a helpless expression lingering in her mien, but nevertheless seemed to find no resolution for the Astrologian's hesitation. Walking back to the spot where she had been practicing Yoga, she placed the fists on her hips and cocked slightly the head to the right shoulder. Her words lacked noticeable patience: “If you keep this silence, sit at least down instead of standing around like zoological specimens. It's creepy – especially for you.”  
She was hardly containing for herself the sizzling worry towards the fellow.  
Midgardsormr could not pretend to despise this. He was appreciating her honesty.  
No reaction followed, so Cecilia continued frustrated her exercises. But the quiet woman surprised her as well as the dragon once more. “I wear this clothing...” ,Augustine suddenly explained, “...because I wanted to demonstrate you, that I am not as self-confident as you may think of me... Without the beautiful attire Leveva gave me, I rather feel like an ugly small duck than the person you described today... My self-esteem can't keep up with your pride.”  
Cecilia didn't stop her motions while she replied: “I do know, that you have this hidden weakness. And I am smart enough to tell, that your rough childhood in this Holy City is the reason for this. Your family was treated like dirt by the lords and ladies, while your neighbors were skeptical because of your scales, so that they hardly trusted you. But for ME, you are a treasure the people just did not notice earlier. If you consider how grateful your neighbors are nowadays for you, wearing a mask does not suit you. Pretend not to be proud – simply be it.”  
There it was again... Her wisdom resembling dragons.  
Or poetical speaking: The burning candle for his moth-yearning.  
Augustine smiled softly – sweetly as a naive child – under the encouraging words. The dragon was deeply amazed to see, how much she truthfully resembled the maiden. Her kind happiness was almost as dulcet as the archmage's shy smile.  
“I envy Haurchefant. Though I shouldn't as the two of us know each other since I was a toddler... He was my benefactor – my only angel apart from my mother and father... But I can't help it. Instead of being irate that he likes you a lot in lieu of me, I feel jealous when he has your attention. My childhood-friend is blessed to be a favorite of yours.” the Raen stated.  
Cecilia grinned diabolic for a moment with amused eyes, before she shook her head with an abrupt serious mien: “I do not know, who I should chose in case I decided to try a relationship... All those, who I admire in one way or another, do not... trigger this kind of affection Haurchefant feels. Or... which you feel. I yearn not in both emotional and physical way for a single man, so far.”  
Listening to this made the Methuselah's heart rattle like several glasses.  
He couldn't descry, however, why that was so...  
The Astrologian watched the maiden's movements a little before she asked her: “But maybe you are in the end better off with another woman? I mean, that's also a possibility. Perhaps the right person for you has not necessarily to be male as long as everything else matches.”  
Pausing her doing, the maiden returned to her feet. “Augustine, I really wish I could share this idea, but it's simply not possible. There exists far away from here only a single girl that I would want for such an experiment... but I dare not to take her away from those who love her. Admire her fully... She makes her personal family happy and adores them. She has what I wish to have one day.”  
Hesitantly, she added: “Also, I know the former life of mine was filled with pure love, so I really... REALLY aim to earn as the person I am NOW another chance of true luck. But that means I must... stick to what I truthfully want for my future.”

The dragon's ears twitched in irritation.  
Strong wistfulness dwelled in her words which he had never noticed before.  
Augustine narrowed with a guilty expression the eyes. She sensed the sentiment just as he did. “You're sad, aren't you?” ,she asked sorrowful, “Apologies, I didn't want to hurt your feelings. Neither in the guild... It's just right that you slapped me undamped... But I couldn't control myself... You seem so lost whenever this topic comes up.” “Well, I am rather impatient.” ,Cecilia admitted and sighed intensely, “I don't want to be ingrate since there are people who hold me dear in Eorzea despite so many inhabitants plus adventurers who still detest me for being an Au Ra... A stranger. But... I want still somebody who I can love with my whole heart...”  
Cecilia's gaze wandered to the wall opposite to the chimney.  
Her subsequent words were much lower than everything else she said before: “Somebody who is not too old for me, so that he won't find me naive, and is neither too tall nor too small so he would match my seize. I have... no possibility under these facts. I don't want to feel like a blue-eyed kid... Nor a boring lady... Yet, waiting patiently is hard, too... It's... painful...”  
When she looked down to the ground, Midgardsormr beheld her with a tensed corpus.  
Her expression was painted by agony. And this wish of hers a humble exemplar, but indeed all men close enough to Cecilia were much larger plus older... One was even too old for her, even if she said sibling-affection was all connecting them... And beyond, the teenager who she adored would also grow up plus be as tall as all the other Elezen one day. Additional, as Alphinaud was still a scholar, he, too, would sooner than later denounce her as starry-eyed. Not to forget... how she considered this one, specific and awful Hyur as her brother despite their familiarity... Thus...  
There was really nobody who could fulfill her plea at the moment...  
For a short instant, an unbelievable thought crossed suddenly his mind. But he banished it instantly into his subconsciousness. The only mad thing he could allow was the sadness about the maiden hiding this sorrow, which hunted her all the time, from him. Only this insanity was harmless enough to not alter everything he believed into and to not twist his morales until he lost his reason.  
Augustine placed the hands onto Cecilia's shoulders.  
“Promise me to search for the right person. Promise me, that you will not lose hope until you find your happiness. And promise me... to give somebody a chance when you feel like your confidence is vanishing. It does not have to be Haurchefant... I really just want you to be not alone. So please, take a hand before you don't find somebody for whom you can reach out.” the Raen said.  
The maiden stared at Augustine with a lost expression. As if a young woman begged her older sister for advice. Both crystal and jewel shone in repressed suffering. The view alone hurt the Methuselah. “I can't promise anything... There's a chasm inside of my heart... which seems so large and empty, that I fear it might scare everybody away who can't make a wonder happen... I don't want to be unworthy the effort somebody puts into me... I want to deserve the admiration... And I do want to feel a deep connection, too. I yearn for this.” the archmage shrived.  
It was just briefly, but she glanced with these agonized eyes at Midgardsormr.  
He felt the magnetic pull so intense that it made him hallucinate something specific...  
Hearing his full name; spoken by Cecilia herself. An imploring tune that stopped his heartbeat.  
Augustine sighed and brushed over the maiden's face with her right hand. “I really wish I could be your prince. Or knight. Or whatever would suffice to make you happy. Even if it would be just temporarily distraction.” the older Raen stated with a half-confident smile. Midgardsormr could see the following tremble running through the archmage's body under these words. He felt gooseflesh developing on his skin while the Astrologian cupped Cecilia's face softly – showing the maiden those compassion which he himself wanted to give her.  
He felt the jealousy eating his senses away, but much stronger was his wish to ease Cecilia's agony. It didn't matter when somebody else did this instead of him... He was after all just an ancient dragon who was too handcuffed by the frontiers of his own species. Too paralyzed by hidebound morales, as if he could unleash this precious mortal...

A tear glided over Cecilia's face.  
When Midgardsormr saw this, he recognized something...  
The sound as if something shattered; right there in the chest of his vessel...  
Her next words were merely a weak whisper: “Just tonight... Only tonight... I can't give you more... And I won't take ever again this altruism of yours... So be aware of this fact... You are the one and only woman Eorzea's who I accept for a single time...”  
Augustine studied her with a worried expression. “Are you really sure? Will you not hate yourself to repeat what you do no longer want to allow?” the Astrologian asked unsettled and did something which tested the determination behind the indirect promise. She let her left hand wander down. When it reached Cecilia's silver bikini-top, Midgardsormr shivered just like the maiden.  
“Yes...” came the low, but strong-willed answer. The right hand of her friend glided also down to the extroverted piece of clothing, but slowly glided deeper. “Am I even masculine enough to let you not totally feel like the male part?” Augustine asked with concern in the voice – her expression revealed the nervousness to do something which could hurt Cecilia's feelings.  
The Raen's hand paused on the white fabric, but two fingers dared to slip over the trouser-waistband into the cloth's inside; straight under the belly. The maiden gulped audible under the unusual touch of her friend, but nevertheless nodded with lowered lids. Her mien was deadly serious.  
“Really, really sure?” Augustine inquired nervous – she was honestly not caring for her own hopes, but for the maiden in front of her. To soothe all doubts or to cause a failure, she went even further. Midgardsormr kept an animalistic groan down and twitched instead, as the Astrologian's hand vanished in the trousers. Afterwards, the maiden closed her eyes for a few seconds with her head tilting backwards – the gesture of her friend seemingly defeating her last reservations.  
She drew breath with opened, glistering lips.  
Pressing visibly her lap into the physical contact.  
Then, she looked again at her friend. This time Cecilia didn't answer – she stepped forward and kissed Augustine directly on the mouth. Her hands gripped the Astrologian's arms in a begging way. He knew now for sure, that she wanted the experience completely... She wouldn't struggle anymore. Her satisfied moan between Augustine's lips was proof enough...  
Cecilia allowed her friend to lead her to the bed – or perhaps she sought for losing dominance... Midgardsormr would lie if he pretended to be not relieved about her passiveness, since the fight demonstrated the whole day how much it just hurt her. Giving in would be a remedy for her agony. Even though... he recognized a longing deep down in his heart he couldn't name.  
Still, he wished Augustine might make her happy for at least this moment – might give the maiden what an old-fashioned, ancient dragon couldn't do. This here was not exactly what he hoped for; notwithstanding it was at least a piece of redemption for the precious Au Ra.  
The blanket covered their bodies soon – their clothes fell after some minutes one by one to the floor, while they kissed each other passionate; nonstop. Holding the other one tightly so that their shapes were pressed against each other. Betimes, Augustine even vanished completely under the fabric, when she lay down onto the maiden's corpus.  
Biting his lower lip until it bled, Midgardsormr freed himself from his numbness.  
He couldn't stay here; motionless like a stone. He was no mindless toy which possessed neither intelligence nor capacity for remembering. Maybe he could lessen his acuesthesia, so that no sound would reach his brain, and close the eyes for seeing nothing, but he was still alive and awake.  
He had to go in order to not overshadow their privacy. Now!  
But in the very second he began to stand up...  
Cecilia's eyes caught him.  
As if she had heard his thoughts, she pleaded him silently to stay – a heartbreaking expression lingering in her gaze; ready to burst through in case he should leave her behind. When he just began to raise his legs, her eyes twitched and tears appeared on the irises.  
Once more the hallucination rang in his head – his full name uttered by her.  
He didn't know, why she wanted him to be a voyeur... Why she yearned for this crack-brained thing. This was the most imbecilic request of hers... But as he – on the other hand – was a sick watcher who lost his morales and needed to make sure she would find somehow luck, redemption, salvation or whatever it might be... It was impossible to deny her request...  
He couldn't forsake her.  
To mute his conscience, he reminded himself over and over that he could actually see nothing with the blanket hiding the women's shapes. That he couldn't hear anything as long as he just suppressed by simple force his sense for that specific stimulus. Nevertheless, the dragon on the chimney tried to keep the eyes shut, so he wouldn't hurt their privacy in any way.  
Albeit... he gaped sometimes at the maiden's face which poked out of the blanket.  
He could hardly not look at it... All the sentiments she experienced now caused her to show facets within the mien which he hadn't seen so far. It was mortal's raw, primal and inviting beauty...

Midgardsormr shivered.  
Paradoxically not because of the cold...  
Western Coerthas couldn't cool his active mind off. Not even the occasional, nasty hail could this. Since yesterday evening alias night, he was barely able to focus on anything else but the shocking, yet appealing memories. He was ashamed of his mental weakness, but that must be the fair forfeit after he had seen Augustine in some way as a means to an end. Deserving a restless brain caught in overwhelming impressions, the dragon didn't fight the strong guilt he felt.  
Admittedly... It was good to know first-hand, that it had worked out.  
So far, the whole day had been a nice one for the maiden – her mood clearly bright.  
Those tools she owned for gathering were nonstop used to chop wood, get minerals out of rocks and catch some fishes in the handful of puddles the cold had not frozen yet. Everything accomplished with her fullest joy to be helping out the people who lived in the area. And he, too, was happy to see no frustration on her mien; not important if caused by complicated books or burdensome mortals.  
If it hadn't been difficult to oppress the pictures, he would share her bliss.  
The dragon noticed barely passing humans when the Au Ra brought all obtained materials to a settlement called Convictory. Flying behind Cecilia, he almost bumped into her back in the moment she talked with the person meant to take the delivery. Probably it wasn't the best idea to follow her instead of sitting on her shoulder... But he couldn't touch her.  
Physically avoiding the Raen was a result of his restless mind.  
That was so... because he blushed through the slightest, most trivial contact. In the morning, she just caressed his ears – if she hadn't been distracted by a chatter with Augustine, Cecilia would have seen his face becoming dark-red. Additional, his muscles finagled... When she saw her friend off, casually landing on the maiden's head caused him to shiver in the second he inhaled her scent.  
Snorting resigned, Midgardsormr stared at the white ground.  
He didn't know, how long she talked with the Elezen, but it took only a short instant to dive completely back into his personal penalty. So deep, that he winced in the second Cecilia tapped against his right 'hand'. “Can you endure the cold a little bit longer?” the maiden asked cautiously. Well, his absentmindedness was apparently obvious... The skepticism in her odd-colored eyes practically screamed so loud it was almost audible...  
The Methuselah nodded fractionally: “As long as the volley doesn't become worse than the last time it fell from the sky...” She silently studied him detailed for a moment, which made him feel nervous. But still he kept the eye-contact to her – not willing to let her recognize his troubled thoughts. Cecilia's head tilted to the left shoulder: “I ask because I want to go to a place where I can relax after gathering all these materials. Unfortunately, the sky is right above aforesaid spot, so the weather can become a nuisance, nevertheless. You are fine with that? Or...?”  
Sighing, he flew close to her face.  
Oppressing a flood of pictures in his mind, he replied: “It is acceptable. A risk I can bear as long as you are able to recover.” “Okay... This sounds like a too polite 'Yes' in my opinion. Suspicious... However, you're hopefully the kind of dragon who enjoys hot-springs.” the maiden uttered and gazed expectant at him. Frowning a little, he needed to admit in secret, that he had somehow prayed in the back of his head for another possibility than this one... Although it was silly to count on another recreational activity, since nothing else would make sense in the Highlands.  
A pity, that she was an adult human... A young child would have understood 'relaxing' in the snow in a different way, as much as he knew. Building a snowman... or an igloo, perhaps. Tobogganing.  
He pushed the awkward outlook away from his consciousness.  
It was necessary to focus on the positive aspect...  
“Water in general is my preferred element.” ,Midgardsormr declared calmly, “The mortals may say, that fire brings warmth and with this trait also life, but it is notwithstanding a destructive force. Every living being could be destroyed when the flames are just large enough. The true origin of life, on the other hand, fascinates me since the first moment of my existence. It's powerful, yet normally flowing in a tamed way. An opposite of mine that I could never forgo.”  
Silently, he added: 'And there is something in front of me, which is quite similar...'  
Cecilia smiled gently. His declaration had seemingly the effect he was hoping for.  
“Let's go then, Midgard.” that soft voice called happily. She reached out for him; brushed softly with her fingertips over his chin and lower-jaw. His eyes widened, while he felt his cheeks heat drastically until it must be visible. The maiden's brows went up a little as she watched him blush. But she said nothing... This was even worse as if she would straightforward utter... anything...  
As he looked down in shame plus unease, her hand retired slowly from him.

Skeptical sniffing, he stared at a path between the rock-walls.  
“Something wrong?” the Au Ra asked as she walked meanwhile to the steaming water.  
His eyes glowed in a piercing manner as he responded: “The smell of Yetis is clinging to the stone. They seem to gather here sometimes.” In the moment his gaze searched for her, Cecilia nodded, albeit she knelt next to the spring and beheld it as if she wasn't anymore sure about her plan.  
“Maybe the big guys are peaceful enough to share the bath when one is willing to not harm them in the second they meet.” the archmage suggested while one of her gloves landed on the ground. Placing afterwards her hand into the water, she tested unhurried the liquid's true temperature with a neutral facial expression. Presumably, it matched her expectation.  
“I doubt this will suffice. The Yetis in this Highland are aggressive as well as not too gently considering humans. Even to my kind, they demonstrate scorn. Before winter consumed Coerthas, at least, they were known to be as dangerous as they were rare.” “So, in other words...” ,the maiden followed his train of thoughts, “...their behavior became worse thanks to the rougher environment. Yetis are surely accustomed to the cold, but they need yet food and warmth just as we people do. Thanks to the never-ending winter, it's hard for them to make sure they survive. Hence, they eat whatever they can get and share not willingly a possibility to keep themselves warm.”  
He agreed with her: “Exactly this is what makes me worried...”  
Imagining such a situation with her made him glare in both anxiety and rage.  
“Besides...” the Methuselah trailed off when she stood up. When she began to undress herself.  
Recalling the last evening once more, he twitched unpleasantly. It wouldn't be such a difficult action to look away... Since Cecilia's attention was entirely focused on her clothes, no irritated questioning of his action awaited him. But... His gaze was quasi glued to her.  
Helpless, he eyeballed the maiden as she uncovered herself until only the underwear remained.  
The white fabric might hide her chest and lap, but the rest of her skin and scales was bared under the grey daylight. His corpus was almost paralyzed by this view; his pair of wings close to stopping its motion in the air. He floated clumsily down to the ground in order to prevent a crash-landing, while she stepped slowly into the hot-spring.  
Her delicate rosy flesh vanished not completely in the water...  
Thus, the upper part of her body poked out of the steaming soup.  
His corpus was entirely stiff as he watched her rubbing the tense muscles of arms and shoulders. Midgardsormr was abashed; told himself to not stare impolitely at the Raen, but he couldn't help it... This was simply a beautiful creature... Worth to be marveled every second of her existence.  
A smile slipped abruptly over the corners of her blossom-like lips.  
“You're always so shy, when I wear not much.” ,she noticed while her eyes called out for his own, “Thinking about your age, that's a very odd habit you got. I am just a little girl compared to you. But well... Since you feel uncomfortable, I spare you the view of me taking a bath without clothes. Because I don't want to shock you with my naked body.”  
Blushing, his head sank down.  
“Apologies... I am old-fashioned...” he murmured.  
It was over-straining for Midgardsormr, that she was actually informed of his trouble. Meanwhile – with all these strange memories he had collected so far – he was sure she would simply not notice, which embarrassment her permissiveness caused for him... Guessing aforesaid innocent option since weeks made it even worse to realize now, how aware she really must be of his prudery.  
He felt like drowning in shame of himself...  
“Do you want to join me?” the forthright question threw him out of his thoughts.  
Raising his head again, he looked at Cecilia's expectant eyes. It was no challenge and no innocence – it was a mature wish she had formulated. Disguised as a good-mannered, unselfish sentence. Perhaps this was not even supposed to punish his bad humor... She intended to take a bath with him; not for mockery and with full knowledge about his awkwardness.  
The embarrassment was so strong, that he turned dark-red like a cherry. Yet, he hesitated to give her an answer, since both Yes and No were pulling on his mind. Over and over, the decision he wanted to make switched to the other side. Therefore, the Methuselah was stuck within himself.  
Suddenly, Cecilia uttered: “I'm sorry for the escapade with Augustine. I might have warned you about my predilection, but I think it was still a harsh blow for you to be confronted with that... Above all, I couldn't let you flee...” She was afraid... of having scared him? Of having forced him? He might be an antique being, yet this wasn't what had pushed him out of his personal comfort-zone in the last evening... The fossil he was had rather no idea how to handle mental magnetism...  
What to do... with attraction...  
“You have... all right of the world to find somebody who matches your needs. I was just... perplexed. Not through the amorous doing of mortals, but because I cared more for your well-being than I had realized until then. You have not done anything wrong.” the dragon stated serious while he hid the restless emotion in his subconsciousness.  
“If that's true, would you now join me?” she inquired; hope dwelling in her voice. The rosy color of her cheeks became more intense as he watched Cecilia's face undecided. It distracted his insecurity. Oh... OH... So it was not for him alone difficult... With this worry of hers, to be denied, he could not walk the easier path. A gentleman would not turn a lady down. And an equivalent of his species followed this rule, too, even if a mortal should not take the place of the female dragon.  
Shyly, Midgardsormr nodded: “I accept the offer.”  
A beautiful smile spread over her mien; she giggled like a child. It made him chuckle helpless. Closing the eyes for a moment, the Methuselah wondered if this decision would end in regret.

Impulsive, he wanted to fly to the water.  
But amongst the first motion of his wings the dragon changed his mind. Midgardsormr couldn't blindly trust his system as long as it felt slightly numb... Quite uncontrollable. Looking at the floor to avoid the pretty view, he went to the spring. Somehow clumsy, he hopped into the steaming bath – nevertheless not splashing a single drop.  
It was a wonderful feeling... His vessel was so tiny, that he was able dive in the water... Something, that grown-up dragons couldn't enjoy... For a short moment, he sank to the floor with closed lids. Inhaled just a modicum of the hot liquid through the nostrils. Prickling, it ran down his windpipe – a pleasant sensation for someone who could breath fire. It allowed him to relax for a moment from his inner strain... Then, he swam back to the surface.  
The father of dragon-kind sat down next to Cecilia; on a shallow spot so the water wouldn't cover his shoulder-blades. There, he stared straight into the distance instead of looking to the right side... where she was. He felt nervous to be like this in her near... Not directly after that... happening between her and Augustine... Their moment was less and less burdening his thoughts...  
Mostly, the effect of the maiden's skin and scales on him was unsettling... And even more... She was so close to the dragon, that the water-steam couldn't overlay her scent. His sensitive nose recognized her aroma. Plus... her slender tail lay next to him in the liquid; almost touching his own. He doubted that this was a coincidence, since his corpus sat higher than she did...  
A fingertip of hers landed on his neck.  
The Methuselah gasped muted, because her touch was quasi hitting a nerve in this moment.  
Soft pressure which nevertheless nourished his fears. Not the paranoid anxiety – that was caused by his physical death – to be touched by mortals; not this one... But every other worry... as well as anguish he carried deep down in his mind...  
Another finger contacted his skin.  
Both body-parts warmer than her flesh usually was thanks to the water, they seemed to indulge in their task... Cecilia palpated via them the bare structure of his skin. And just a short instant later... all fingers of her hand joined without a warning. The tips rubbed gently the leathern skin which needed yet to develop scales. They drew slowly little circles on him.  
Midgardsormr was entirely petrified. He couldn't even breathe properly. Only one organ of this pitiful corpus did still a good job... The vessel's heart. It accelerated above all the speed...  
A short while later, the fingers vanished just in order to return after plunging into the hot-spring. They wandered up along his neck until his right ear was reached. There, the maiden fondled softly the long jagged auricle. Did so without a break. Water ran lethargic down from her skin because of the permanent contact. And flowed into his ear... Obtaining gooseflesh, the dragon widened his eyes – she had never before focused so much on this part of him... To her lax plus incidental caressing, he was somehow accustomed, but this...?  
The Methuselah shivered as her fingers glided down. Down to his face... They ghosted unperturbed over his cheek for a moment. Massaging cautiously the darkened flesh. Afterwards, the tips went tenderly over his lower-jaw in order to reach the muzzle. His heartbeat went faster and faster...  
It felt like his eyelids were ripped into peaces by shock when she touched his lips.  
But... After the first second of horror... A moan not louder as the wind's whisper escaped his mouth. It was a positive contact. Not triggering any fears. No mental pain. Rather the contrary happened... It caused him to feel... pleasance. At the most when she caressed the lower-lip.  
He moaned once more. Furthermore... this time significantly longer.  
Midgardsormr heard her peaceful smile – the sound it made.  
Embarrassed by his audible sign of weakness, he opened the snout and bit into her index-finger. Firmly, his fangs dug into her skin. To his surprise, however, she didn't even twitch under them. Instead, the free fingers brushed soothing over his face. His lids sank; he loosened the mouth's grip. Hesitantly tasting her skin as she didn't pull back. Flesh with such sweet aroma was unbelievable... Just as the fact, that his daring tongue didn't scare the maiden off...  
Curious, he provoked her willpower – hoping, she wouldn't find the challenge disgusting.  
The dragon tickled and licked the silky skin like a snuffling snake would do.  
Cecilia laughed muted. Like a fairy; trying to bear her amusement down. She failed at this totally... He was deeply relieved she didn't thought again he would be making a bad joke. So, he let willingly go of her when she clarified to want to withdraw from him.  
Her fingers dove back into the steaming soup. Then, she gently brushed with the tips of both hands over his head, back and wings. Hot waterdrops ran down his shape where she touched it – she began to wash him. To massage him. It felt so appeasing, that he calmed entirely down. His heartbeat stopped to hammer harshly against his ribcage. Instead, it pounded smoothly like a child's drum, while she caressed him softly. Unhurried; with her right hand all over his back and tail.  
Breathing out like a sigh, Midgardsormr leaned his head against her body – a necessity that could not be ignored. Somewhat under the left armpit, his cheek stayed on her warm flesh. Eyes closed, for a moment he was worried, if the abrupt motion was a bad idea. If he would outreach a border... But she didn't push him away. The opposite happened.  
Relief spread through his system, when Cecilia's arm framed his shape in an affectionate manner. An odd experience... considering himself. The Methuselah could not believe, how much she had meanwhile sneaked under his skin – how deep she was buried in his entire system. How glad or rather happy it made him... to be unable to refuse this maiden.  
Midgardsormr was yet unable to draw a clear frontier, so he was caught in fatherly feelings and this... whatever it might be. But he knew he had lost already against the magnetic pull. He did not want to let this girl ever slip away – he would rather bite his own tail than allowing anything or anybody to steal his place in her life. And he would punish every existence who dared to take her – her bare existence – away from him. Even, if his own kind should then be blameworthy...  
He raised minimal the lids, when she pressed him into her direction.  
A short look at her hopeful face made him smile curbed. He grew not tired of the childish innocence she could demonstrate... Nodding, the dragon let her pick him up. Her hands were holding him so cautiously like porcelain; the sensation was pleasant as long as it lasted. Then, close to her body, Midgardsormr lay in her arms. A relaxing position for the ancient mind.  
However... He wanted more than just being held like a baby... So he slipped out of the 'cradle'. Willingly gliding onto her lap, he studied quietly her surprised mien. She blushed in delicate pink... His enchanted delight because of this sweet view was audible, yet Cecilia saw no mean bantering within it... This was luck... Sharing his joy, she was nevertheless looking like an overwhelmed child in the moment he leaned the whole body on her own.  
If he had been larger, it would be an embrace... She was aware of this gesture, he knew it.  
Her arms surrounded him carefully while he let his head rest on her left shoulder. He blended everything else but her out from his senses. Lids completely shut. The upper part of the girl's body was so satisfying warm... Her skin under his stomach and chest a complete distraction from even the hot-spring around them... Breathing intensely out, the dragon sipped on her flesh.  
“Midgardsormr...”  
The maiden's voice was music plus velvet in his ears.  
But that she used his full name made him shiver. He was too accustomed to the short version, wherefore already his hallucinations in the last evening placed pressure on his nerves. With that, hearing her saying the complete name for real had an effect on him he couldn't grasp...  
Inhaling harshly, his eyes searched for hers. Indirect disappointment awaited him. Yet, happiness. Her lids were closed in delight; caused by their physical closeness. Pushing the strange feeling triggered by her siren-song to the side, the Methuselah caressed her stomach with the left 'hand'. The arms around his corpus twitched, but what really appealed to him were the blooming cheeks. This lush pink. Even on her lips... And the quiet moan from her mouth.  
“Cecilia...” he whispered. Causing her to open the eyes.  
She looked unsettled as he studied her mien. Was she ashamed of her reactions? If so, why? Because he was antique? Or a completely different species? Did she fear a dragon as old as him couldn't understand a mortal's sensations...? Perhaps he should better make her realize very soon, how unbelievable it was which magnetism bound him to her...  
He could watch the Au Ra biting the right corner of her lower-lip before she asked: “Am I... awful for wanting to cuddle like this with you? As long as you can endure it?” Relaxation went through his corpus as he listened to her worry. So she was not embarrassed to admit it... “You have no idea... how glad I am to hear this.” he replied softly.  
She furrowed her brows: “What can be so nice about being squeezed by a stupid mortal like me? Just as if you were a stuffed animal? You have to be rather annoyed than happy. After all, I cling too much to you... Like an arctium.” Laughing gently, he shook his head. “You are not such a plant. And I... welcome your openness. Every attention of yours is... good for my soul.”  
Midgardsormr wished to tell her, how helpless he was since a while... There was this burning, intense question as what he should label her for his heart... And his chest began to hurt whenever she was not in his near... But apart from his draconic pride to be not sentimental, her beautiful smile prevented him from ruining the moment. The truth he had at least revealed to her seemed to have more weight than he expected... It made the Raen's eyes shine more and more like stars.  
Lowering his head plus gaze, the dragon kept an unspeakable relief for himself.  
When he huddled his shape tightly against her body, her following words made him quiver: “It's too much to ask for, but please... Can you stay with me? Even if the Dragonwar should come to an end? Even if... Hydaelyn should no longer want you to accompany me...?” Taking a deep breath, he said something he had always tried to keep away from his consciousness: “As long as you allow me to stay by your side... I do not want to leave you. I want to see every second of your existence.”  
His eyes widened, when he felt a drop on his neck. It couldn't rain in this cold area... Glancing up, he watched how an obviously second tear glided over Cecilia's left cheek. A third one glistering in the crystal. “S-Sorry... I'm just... happy in a silly way. That's all.” she apologized with a forced grin. Frowning, he brushed the tear from her cheek with his nose. “You have expected--- no, FEARED something else.” ,he noticed crestfallen while he eyeballed her severely in self-contempt, “If I was expressing my sentiments more, this would never have been the case.”  
Just how could she expect him to reply 'No!'... when he adored her so very much...  
Her mien mirrored his frustration a little: “It's not like you have to. There's no rule forcing you to give others insight of your head. And some things are clear enough... I mean, I can't read your mind, but you must somehow feel connected when you can endure so much folderol happening in the near of a human. You even stated to trust me. One can also understand this as: You like me somehow.”  
What an understatement...  
Pressing offended his head against her chin, he wrinkled the nostrils. “This sounds wrong... 'Like'... Pah... If I saw myself as a mere ally of yours, it would not be painful when you are not in my near... There are moments in which I detest myself for feeling this sympathy. Because you are a mortal.” She held him abruptly so tight he wondered how it didn't break his wings or her arms. “Sometimes, I wish this would be easier... If I can name it: Our friendship. With all these differences between us, dragons seem to be better off without men. But... Midgard... The way you are is worth every; EVERY struggle I have with those chasms. After all... I am... holding you dearly in my heart.”  
Letting the words a thousand times reverberate in his brain, his head glided slowly down her neck. He didn't stop the unhurried motion until he reached the first bones of her ribcage. There, Midgardsormr could listen to the beat in her chest. A lively rhythm without any rush; telling him she spoke the truth. Realizing this had a strong impact on him... It made his 'fingers' claw desperate into the white fabric on her chest.  
Inhaling her scent, the thought just escaped his mouth: “My girl...”  
Both hearts pounded stronger in the very second his words had been spoken.  
Cecilia calmed quickly down, but he recognized a flood of nervousness consuming his system. Uttering this troublesome phrase aloud for the first time was already a burden, yet this was nothing compared to saying it directly to the maiden... He squinted abashed his eyes.  
Without a warning, the maiden lay her face on his forehead. Her lips. They softly moved on him. All his disquietude deflagrated instantly as he realized the kiss. Irritation replaced the nervousness; something like hope tried to take him over. This was a sign he had never dared to wish for...  
“And my dragon.” she murmured on his skin.  
Immense joy filled him up.

'Mine...'  
The word rang every now and then in his mind. Like a little bell...  
Since they had taken this bath together in Western Coerthas' hot-spring, Midgardsormr just felt – like Cecilia tended to describe it – connected. In some way also assured of the 'noteworthiness' Estinien had mentioned in Dravania... He was, as the Azure Knight pictured it, indeed owning a piece of her affection. Now simply landing on her shoulder proofed this... She always caressed him when he was in her reach. Endearingly, above all.  
While she spent the next two days rotational with Alphinaud and Haurchefant, the dragon's jealousy was less intense than he had experienced so far. Especially when she ogled the teenager. Somehow, the Methuselah tolerated this not only, but accepted it. And he found it surprisingly slowly likeable, that Alphinaud admired him since the events in Ul'dah. At least enough for allowing the boy to pat his wings. Apart from the obvious negative traits, the young scholar was a fine being.  
Cecilia's handling of the Fortemps-knight did also not trouble him.  
Albeit they appeared closer, he felt not unsettled amongst their interactions. Augustine's words were surely in charge for Cecilia's growing affection towards the Elezen, but meanwhile no burning envy within the dragon was directed against Haurchefant.  
If the man had matched her preference... In other words, if he would be smaller...  
Midgardsormr could imagine the Fortemps-son to be a good partner. This picture did not entirely please the Methuselah, but it was a possibility he could truly live with meanwhile.  
Although... there was something he would find desirable... The sweetness of Cecilia being together with Augustine would match his personal preference. A pair like this could melt his rage to the point where almost no flames would remain. Even if... there was something... he wished for to happen. This thought, however, landed instantly tied up in his subconsciousness whenever it emerged. Foolishness was no characteristic he owned. Naivety especially not.  
Also, the question about her future mate vanished into the periods of his slumber, because she and Erik decided in the late afternoon of the second day to help for three days out in Central Coerthas. The other Warriors stayed in Ishgard – or rather Abalathia, as they wanted to help Laniaitte out – and Alphinaud had been persuaded to work with Tataru in the tavern.  
Mostly avoiding by day Camp Dragonhead, the two 'siblings' gathered materials for the stonecutters of aforesaid settlement. They did so in the Southwest of both Haurchefant's domicile as well as Whitebrim Front; the later located in the Northwest of the areal. Occasionally, the maiden got also winter-resistant apples and chopped wood for a befriended merchant from the camp. As she did this in the near of the Steps of Faith, the dragon felt nostalgic to see for a longer while the place where he began to realize her honesty... The strong wish to not kill his kind.  
When dusk came, Cecilia always went fishing, while her 'brother' prepared their dinner. Every meal was a masterpiece; in spite of Erik's constant averment to have cooked nothing special. Sometimes, the Fortemps-son checked if everything was alright – he was truly worried, if his friends would not overdo their work. Midgardsormr tended to do the same, but as he was all the time with the Raen, his own concern was soothed by Cecilia's presence. Haurchefant didn't own this luxury thanks to that important position he had been given, so the Methuselah felt pity for the Elezen.  
At the most, because he was granted with something, which nobody else had...  
Every night since their bath, the maiden invited the dragon to share the sleeping-berth with her.  
The nocturnal stops at Camp Dragonhead were no exception. And not a single time Midgardsormr refused the offer. He let the maiden hold his corpus in her arms – not minding her worry to treat him like a stuffed animal. It was indeed a little humiliating, yet he welcomed the physical closeness. Cecilia warmed his sensitive system with that naturally heat she owned, so his muscles were every morning after waking up completely relaxed. Even more... His dreams were thanks to her presence always delightful. Albeit within those, she was the little girl who he called his eighth child.  
In the evening of the third day the current routine changed.  
While serving dessert, Erik stated, that he planned to work tomorrow for the Observatorium. Strictly speaking: For the local protection-guard. The Marauder stated, that – if she wanted to – Cecilia could already return to Ishgard. But the maiden denied the Hyur's suggestion. She would surely find something to make herself useful in Central Coerthas; there was always a handful of tasks to undertake for adventurers. And despite the never-ending winter, this place contained many important memories she would never want to forget.  
With these facts, she couldn't let Erik have all the fun alone. This was out of question. Her 'brother' smiled happily when he heard this – an unusual view. But it was admittedly just a natural reaction... These two were – in their own way – truly a pair of siblings.  
Later at night, the Methuselah didn't dream of Cecilia in the usual way...  
Imagined her not as his own, half-mortal offspring... Instead of this, his mind pictured the maiden the way she was; with her real age. And himself... as a dragon old enough to be a bit larger than her. Together, they walked over a field of flowers, while she wore still the short dress in white color which his subconsciousness had given her tiny version. The dawn's light perfectly suited her long, gracile legs which danced like butterflies through the blossoms. Her smile solely meant for him was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.  
Under this wonderful view, he succumbed fast to her unobtrusive temptation.  
Midgardsormr pulled her cautiously with his left wing to his chest. Holding her in his rough arms; feeling her returning the affectionateness with her tender embrace, the dragon knew that this was, what he wanted at the most... She should be completely his property; and he hers alone.  
When she placed a benign kiss on his right cheek, he knew this was the certainty he yearned for. The impression was strong enough to reach in the next morning his consciousness.  
Midgardsormr was dazzled by the illusion's answer to his question.  
While Cecilia changed clothes, he reflected half-awake on the selfish thought his subconsciousness was normally locking away. She could not be his... own female. A tiny dragon couldn't keep anybody for itself like this. Not to mention, how pointless it would be. He didn't see her as a mate. He was addicted, indeed, but his physical longing had nothing in common with draconic need for... superior control or permanent bonding. Seeing her as 'his girl' was also rather a fatherly instinct than a matter of pride. Maybe also a sign of his jealousy, but still...  
He was sure, that the reasoning of his egoism – the agony he felt since a while whenever she was not with him – would never excuse such a claiming of the maiden.  
Flying to the window, he stared up to the cloudy sky. Snow fell this morning to the ground.  
Would it help to lessen the weight... if he told her, how conflicted his mind was...?

Skeptical, the dragon eyeballed a troop of soldiers.  
This convention was not really what he had hoped for to be Cecilia's task for today...  
Hovering in the air, he watched as the group's leader thanked the young Astrologian once more; visibly happy about her decision to help. It was a bit mortifying... Of course adventurers supported this area a lot more due to their positive reputation. Thanks to the ambitious Warriors of Light and Cid Garlond, Central Coerthas had opened its heart a while ago for cooperatively travelers.  
Yet, it was still not self-evident to meet those when needed.  
The fight against Vishap had been indeed different. The adventurers and their companions phoned per Linkshells; eager to reach as many allies as possible. Inhabitants of this area, on the other hand, didn't have this luxury or at least just very limited. Albeit Haurchefant and also a few more important personalities maintained friendships with several good-natured souls outside of Coerthas, the ill-conceived network was nevertheless recognizable.  
Cecilia followed the knights, when they went to Camp Dragonhead's gate.  
There was still one man of the group missing, but they wouldn't wait much longer...  
For them, nothing had more weight than their task. And even Midgardsormr understood in spite of his malicious joy, how much pressure waiting in this situation meant... Heretics had been located at Steel Vigil in the North of the settlement. Thus, Haurchefant's subordinates were ordered to ensure, that aforesaid place wouldn't fall into the hands of the 'traitors'.  
It was an important spot to fight the dragons under the command of Nidhogg's second general, Svara. So, in other words, the civilians of Camp Dragonhead were dependent on this outpost. Although a little ride lay between both locations, great danger awaited the mortals in case they lost the strong-point. If the vigil fell, the next target was their home – including their lives.  
The last soldier joined the group in a hurried manner.  
Casting Protect on her allies, Cecilia uttered: “As we're now complete and you all got a little shield, I'll switch classes. In my eyes, it's better to attack the heretics at Steel Virgil as powerful as possible. An ambuscade would hardly work since they surely expect us, so I think attacking with full strength has much more benefits. Any objections?”  
The Methuselah was surprised whenever he heard her speaking with such obvious self-confidence. Or rather, when she spoke with the charisma of a leader... The head of this troop here, however, seemed not to mind her suggestion: “We are indeed lacking far-ranged fighters today... All Archers we normally have were dislocated to reinforce the unities at Whitebrim Front... Okay. As long as you inflict more damage than we all take, your offensive skills are welcome.”  
Floating next to her, Midgardsormr had intended to ask, why Cecilia didn't want to heal like usual. After all, her explanation didn't completely suffice in case somebody got injured But she already changed her role in the second he drew breath. When the dragon saw again that embarrassing outfit she wore as both Blackmage and Summoner, he looked with a heated face away.  
Her stable body-temperature might be a blessing, yet he was still not accustomed to the revealing, way too sexy clothes. If her black hood could just hide this maddening bra... or her very short skirt would cover at least these bikini-pants... One should guess, that taking an intimate bath with her eased his antiquatedness a bit, but the dragon noticed no change. Sleeping in her arms had also obviously changed nothing, as her terry-cloth-nightgown covered her whole shape.  
A heavy sigh left his throat, before the group took off.

They neared Steel Vigil afoot.  
Midgardsormr flew close to her head in the air; avoiding via the dead corner as many sharp gusts as it was like that possible. He felt bad for abusing the maiden as a shield... The weather punished him anyways for this. Sometimes, the wind would emerge with too icy magnitude, so it was nevertheless hard to bear the temperature.  
Thinking about it... The cutting air became worse when they traveled nearby a... decent disturbance in the winter-landscape. Next to the road... was a large abyss. The Methuselah could not remember to have ever seen this chasm when he flew in the far away past over Coerthas.  
“This place is called Witchdrop.” the mage next to him murmured with slight anger in the voice.  
Furrowing his brows, the old dragon asked: “I suppose this name has a good reason to exist...?” Cecilia nodded with a serious face. “That 'pretty' hole you see is where people of Central Coerthas are thrown into after inquisitors successfully convicted them for being heretics.” the maiden uttered in a poisonous manner. The dragon felt for an instant the need to vomit... Such kind of judgment was disgusting... He could hardly believe, which cruelty mortals knew when it came to one another. Of course he already found their ways at time unacceptable, yet this new example of foolishness executed by humans was wearing down his stomach...  
“The innocent do suffer under the heretic's action a lot, but I condemn at the most when one person has to die for the faults of another. Especially, when a heretic dares to turn a peaceful inhabitant willingly into a scapegoat.” the maiden told him while her cold gaze was focused on the abyss. Being affected by her words, the dragon could only nod as a response. He had clear trouble to bear the boiling anger in his chest down.  
If it had been solely his decision... he would take the maiden away from her kind. His descendants might be consumed by hatred and suffering, but if they all would exclude themselves from the war, they were probably able to recognize the similarities Cecilia shared with them. So, in other words... The Au Ra could find amongst 'pangolins' the peace that mortals weren't given her.  
Dragons knew only betrayal because men had taught them the meaning of this word. His kind was not willing to sacrifice another being in order to be not punished for a crime. And while humans tended to bend the truth for their own benefit, his descendants clang to the unchangeable reality.  
She would truly be better off with his grandchildren...  
The dragon landed on her shoulder, when the troop reached Steel Vigil.  
As Cecilia had proclaimed, the heretics were counting on knights to appear. Therefore, the foes had already given their best to ruin Dragonhead's only stronghold as much as possible. But not alone. Ice-monsters aided the sabotage – fast and focused. Through that, one of the important canons employed at the outpost was gravely damaged by Blizzard-spells.  
While the mortals fought, Midgardsormr heard that Lady Iceheart had summoned these creatures. And considering their punches against the soldier's metal-shields, those pale-blue giants weren't only good in casting... However, they were controlled by the 'traitors', so presumably these beings were rather mere golems than living existences. At least he felt no souls...  
The knights got the heretics only after a while down; Cecilia melted prior to this the monsters with huge fire-explosions, before she joined the men-versus-men-combat. Amongst the confrontation, nobody had to die, but this didn't mean the fight was blessed with a positive outcome.  
“I swear I would kill you scumbags with my bare hands if I was allowed to!” the troop-leader said loudly while he passed the handcuffed enemies in favor of checking the canons. The Elezen seemed enraged to the bones – it was surprising, that he didn't let his anger run amok. However, the damage caused by the foes was indeed noticeable. Albeit just the mentioned canon required obviously a complete repair, the others would surely not last as long as originally planned. Cracks were visible in the whole iron; the material resembling rather glass than metal.  
Shaking his head, the leader added resigned: “It can't be helped anymore... We have to fix this ruined thing.” With that, he tapped slightly with his left boot against the most pitiful object; triggering a loud noise coming from the iron's largest crack. Per Linkshell, he called afterwards for a carriage, while Cecilia and the other men tried to get some information out of the enemies. Unsuccessful, sadly. The heretics remained silent like graves.

“How about this: I guard the transport and you others go ahead?”  
The maiden's suggestion frustrated Midgardsormr. It was so damned cold...  
But obviously, it was the only right thing to say. The arguing knights stopped straining the nerves of their head; becoming quiet as they hopefully waited for his agreement. The leader, nevertheless, asked politely: “Is this truly okay for you, young Miss? These two Chocobos are surely strong birds, yet even they will take a while to pull the canon back to Camp Dragonhead.”  
Cecilia smiled gently. “It’s okay, really. I want to help you guys, after all. Just look at our captives – you must throw them soon into a prison or else they will be Popsicles on these two horses. … Honestly, when other tasks still await you at home, this unplanned heavy-object-transport should rather be overlooked by me than you. I can handle this, trust me.” she explained self-confident.  
The knights seemed happy, but the dragon wasn’t glad at all.  
Glancing at the vehicle, he was surprised the wooden toy could actually stand the canon’s weight... A barrow of a carriage... If the two 'ostriches' would pull too much, these big creatures were surely able to tear the vehicle apart...  
Still occupying her shoulder, the Methuselah watched as the soldiers mounted the armored horses they had called via little pipes. The Raen, too, took a seat – next to the silent carter. It was an older, rawboned Hyur whose hair turned grey on the sides; probably he was not very talkative thanks to the cold. His greeting seemed very forced through the clacking teeth. Midgardsormr could just sympathize with this sign of feeling chilly...  
His sympathy counted for other aspects of the unknown man, too. It must be an indigent person... The Hyur was covered by a cheap, long coat in brown color as well as worn trousers plus old boots. He sat on a big blanket that looked like poorest fabric had been used to weave it. Yet, he seemed not to be somebody who complained about his fortune, since his eyes demonstrated still kindness.  
It was odd to realize, that the dragon slowly started to like humankind again...  
Thanks to the heavy canon, the adventurer and carter were the last persons to leave the vigil.  
The Chocobos couldn't keep up with the fast horses, so the knights and their convicts quickly vanished from the field of vision. Albeit the weather was partly the reason for this… The snowfall became worse. It turned into a slight winter-storm.  
Wrinkling his nostrils, the dragon huddled against the maiden's neck.  
“Too cold for you, hm?” she asked compassionate and caressed his back.  
He really wondered, how she could stand the temperature always so carefree. Especially with this... experiment of an outfit. Without hood, boots, gloves, skirt and this somewhat-of-a-fine-pantyhose, she would wear practically just a bikini. Still, her body created so much heat, that her bare presence acted like an oven. Above all, his perplexity about this trait vanished slowly the more time he spent with her. A fortiori he could enjoy simply staying with Cecilia, the less he questioned her odds. Every queerness, to be straight. He was meanwhile completely accustomed to the maiden.  
Pressing his head into her hair, he noticed only marginal, how the peaks of highest buildings in Camp Dragonhead appeared slowly on the horizon. The snow was falling right into their faces thanks to the sharp wind, yet it was not for the frozen water that his eyes had trouble to do their job. They could anyhow function properly if he would just focus on them... But his mind got distracted by the pretty face next to him. The beauty answered now and then the silent call of his gaze; rewarding the dragon with a lovely smile when her attention lay solely on him.  
As her irises concentrated for a longer moment on Midgardsormr, he leaned his face closer to hers. The snout contacting her cheek, he deeply inhaled the Raen's scent. A soft kiss breathed on her skin. Cecilia blushed visibly under his gesture in clear embarrassment. Nevertheless, she didn't flinch in the moment he once more kissed her flesh.  
“Just like a dad...” she murmured gently. This mention appealed to him because of these dreams about her little doppelganger. Actually, he would experience strong joy to be called 'dad' by her... Nonetheless there was... something deep inside of him, that rejected the chains of fatherhood.  
And this something made him wander to her lips...  
His nose brushed tenderly over the rosy skin.  
Cecilia's eyes widened; the heart in her chest pounded louder. He wondered, if the carter heard it... “Midgardsormr...?” she whispered with darker cheeks. As she spoke, he stared lost in thoughts at these petals right before him. They glistered; were damp... Her soft voice was like warm honey; more than he had ever caught when she spoke to Alphinaud or Haurchefant... The maiden's breath beclouded his mind with its sweet aroma of peaches as she exhaled...  
He leaned closer...  
Sudden impact of aggressive magic interrupted the moment.  
Midgardsormr clawed reflexive into the maiden's 'clothing' while both of them as well as the Hyur gave sounds of displeasure. Those Chocobos were louder – screaming in agony as the heavy-loaded carriage was pushed from the street. Next to the Witchdrop, carter's vehicle came to a still-stand; everyone affected by the assault. Its quake had even damaged the dragon on Cecilia's shoulder. Such intense power paralyzed his nerves; they hurt despite slight numbness. His little vessel wasn't resistant enough to endure greater forces like magic or unnatural shakes.  
In his paralysis, he noticed still how the Hyur looked panic-fueled around. The man was helpless; innocent thanks to his carrier... Cecilia, on the other hand, found as a skilled adventurer the cause for their bad situation instantly. But while she reached out for her mage-scepter, the motion's tempo was too slow – she had also taken graver damage by the strong shock-wave.  
At lightning-speed, the enemy used this obvious chance.  
The heretic with four monsters in tow fired instantly another attack at the transport. An explosion – large and powerful enough to throw the carriage over the edge. All of them tumbled into the abyss; the two humans and both birds, that canon and the old dragon. But Midgardsormr couldn't behold this happening anymore with a clear vision. The concussion was too intense for his tiny corpus. While gravity forced them into the chasm, he lost track of simply everything.  
Cold darkness surrounded him as he fell down...

'Argh...' was the first sound his mind gave.  
The dragon came slowly back to senses; greeted by cold snow underneath his body.  
He had no idea, how much time must have passed meanwhile... There was still the storm’s howling, though it didn't reach him here, in the Witchdrop. But hours flew quickly by, in the worst case – after all, the troop had left Camp Dragonhead this morning. Of course he could tell it was daytime, yet the grey light was minimized to an extent where bating the eyes didn't help. Growling, Midgardsormr needed to fully open the lids for obtaining a nevertheless diffuse view.  
Aforesaid ones widened, certainly, when he noticed his situation.  
He lay between wooden splinters; small as well as big ones. Large enough to pierce his wings or little enough to turn him into a reversed hedgehog. Slowly sitting up, his corpus protested against the movement. However, he was still lucky to be only minimal injured. The wounds were naturally ripped open wherefore they bled a little, but no bone seemed to be broken. Indeed... Being a dragon was a blessing – even when one had yet not developed scales and suffered under frost.  
Clumsily, the Methuselah raised his shaking body.  
Gazing around with a blurry vision, the first thing he saw was a corpse.  
The carter was dead. His legs and partly the lower part of the main-corpus had been crushed; bruised by the iron canon. It had probably killed the man in the second they hit the floor together, albeit the man’s age was probably reason enough to rather not survive the fall. Strangely, the Hyur had a peaceful facial expression with closed eyes... As if he had no regrets...  
Just like their owner, the two Chocobos lay on the ground. Near to the carter, they had been spared by their heavy transport-object, but in lieu of that were killed by massive carriage-leftovers. Looking at them, the dragon gulped muted... It was ironic luck to have crashed into the abyss – considering their injuries. They would normally have attracted carnivores such as snow-wolves in the meantime as they bled a lot... The red liquid already discolored their plumage, so it appeared mostly orange-red than ordinary yellow.  
Abruptly, the meaning of tumbling into the Witchdrop reached his brain.  
Realizing every single death, sudden anxiety gripped Midgardsormr’s heart. It made him experience ice-cold fear; flooding his system with panic he had never before carried in his consciousness. Where was the maiden...? What did happen to her...?!  
Walking tremulous around – still weakened by the impact – it took a moment to find her.  
She lay on her back as if somebody had placed her carefully into the snow. Right between splinters and two of the vehicle's wheels. By a hairbreadth spared from death. Just like for Midgardsormr, some kind of guardian-angel must have shown more mercy than for the other three beings...  
But appearances were deceiving.  
Cecilia looked like a sleeping beauty, yet the Methuselah's overhasty relief vanished instantly when he noticed her faint heartbeat. Touching her face with a quivering 'hand', her normally warm skin was nearly cold as snow. Her petal-lips purple with a tendency to blue. Widening his eyes in horror, he understood, that she could die on him in the cold if he didn't do anything.  
Anything...? He couldn't do the most necessary measure! Pulling her out of this chasm was some kind of interference that his state as a watcher didn't allow at all! But if he didn't help the maiden, everything was over for her...! There must be somebody who rescued this valuable child...!  
Panicking, the dragon tried to fly out of the Witchdrop.  
His strength could hardly keep him in the air; the weakened wings carried his hilarious tiny corpus only cumbersome over the abyss. In the distance, he saw apparitional a knight on a horse amongst the snow-storm who rode into the camp's direction. Not caring for consequences, the dragon called – screaming for help as loud as he could.  
But his lungs couldn't drown out the noise of the sharp wind. They were above all soon defeated by the silencing effect which falling snow had. The cold participated in the misery; weakened his body until the wings couldn't endure his weight anymore and his heart obtained not enough oxygen.  
He tumbled back into the chasm.  
Panting, Midgardsormr landed via a handful of reserves save on the icy ground. Albeit it was good to not again lose consciousness, he felt unspeakable powerless in his current disguise... If he could, his own antiquated decisions would instantly end in a trashcan in favor of the Raen. Getting her out of the Witchdrop was all he could think of; no aftermath mattered.  
But in the end, he had not yet accumulated enough energy to make this pitiful body larger. Switching to a height similar to ordinary dragons was for now an option he didn't have. Mostly, because his true strength lay inaccessible in the corpse resting on that damned shipwreck.  
If Mor Dhona would just be a little bit closer...  
Shaking his head in desperation, he knew all wishful thinking didn't help.  
He crawled back to the unconscious girl. Her face under his 'hand' seemed to be now even colder – breath and heartbeat so faint he could almost not hear them. His 'fingers' went down to her neck. The shell-white scales felt brittle under his touch; the normally strange, welcoming heat of her skin not even here anymore. He was afraid, the inner injuries might be more grave than he had expected. If her organs were damaged... she could die only because of the bleeding inside of her body.  
The open wounds he could see weren't drastic, but there were dark stains on her flesh...  
Blood, blood, blood...  
The simple scent of the red liquid in the air let his mind run amok; the images in his head accelerated his heart's frequency. Dragons drank their prey sometimes dry just as mortal creatures consumed water, so he knew very clearly what those injuries did to such soft shapes.  
Hoping for anything helpful, he looked anxiously around. The Methuselah noticed carter's cheap, yet thick blanket amongst the destroyed carriage. If he could bring that ownerless object to her, perhaps it would shield the maiden from the frost... Buy him a little bit more time...  
He flew despite his body's achiness over to the wooden fragments and tried to pull the fabric out. But helpless as the dragon was right now, he couldn't even retrieve it from the heavy leftovers. Although a mortal child might have the physical strength to do so, his baby-corpus couldn't muster the needed power. Especially not in the icy environment which restricted his muscles.  
Beaten, he returned to the maiden's side.  
Only now he noticed something in the snow next to her... It was the linkpearl which she often used to stay in contact with her Warrior-friends and other allies... Picking it up, just a short glance was all he needed to understand that this thing would never again do its job. Angrily for a short moment, the dragon threw the pearl away. Wherever it might have landed, the sound resembled shattering...  
This tune brought him back to his sorrow; let him touch the Au Ra again.  
She was so terribly cold... It made him realize, that there was nothing left for him to save Cecilia... Quivering, his face manifested visibly the expression of a true toddler in deepest desperation. Then, Midgardsormr broke down in tears; cried a river. His nose buried in the cove of her neck.  
He couldn't take it...  
Everything happening so far had been for nothing.  
All positive as well as negative thoughts towards mortals he had developed on this journey were already in vain... Only to imagine this: With time passing by, perhaps he would even have found a way to accept Erik as long as Cecilia was just there... As long as she was by the Methuselah's side. But that was now not more than a picture in his brain; becoming grey and blurry.  
It was only a matter of minutes to lose the maiden forever...  
How... Just HOW...?!?  
How could Hydaelyn be so cruel to torture him like this...?!  
Why did the Mothercrystal manipulate him back then on the damned wreckage in the first place, when the Raen's destiny was such a wasted death...?!? For what harebrained reason had the goddess sought for a proof of his loyalty, when her bait alias pawn in this 'game' was in fact not more to her than a mere SACRIFICE...?!? Which meaning had a chosen child AT ALL...?!?  
… … …  
Her grace...?  
Reflecting on the Mothercrystal, it suddenly hit him like a knife. Made him leap up.  
There was one remaining possibility left to protect his precious mortal from the cold claws of death. One last chance. Not through the hands of others, but by his very own strength. All he had to do was being ready to put Cecilia's life over simply everything else. Including his own existence.  
Touching the maiden's chest, Midgardsormr sent a direct prayer to Her grace via the sealed gift within the chosen child as his medium – the Echo he had locked away with his own power. Concentrating with closed lids, he implored Hydaelyn to work a miracle. He knew she didn't have enough force to do so whenever somebody begged her, but this case was different. Deserved it. Because... For this wonder – favor, he was determined to give his immortality up.  
If Her grace would help him to save this one chosen child, all his draconic power in this vessel as well as the corpse in Mor Dhona should belong to Hydaelyn until the very last spark would vanish. Even the remnants of his own gift... The last drops of the blessing she had once granted to him when the Crystal welcomed the dragon in this world... He was even willing to sacrifice them.  
Sensing Hydaelyn's response – noticing her doubt, his voice rose muted in honesty.  
“If it just sufficed to make sure Cecilia survives... I accept any shape thou bestoweth upon me. Every single pain I will maybe face in the aftermath is still worth to save her life. I do not fear death when the time comes, because I am old and have even seen now a wonder that makes me feel slowly reconnected to humankind. Just one more day by the maiden's side is all I selfishly pray for. Looketh into my heart – thou won't find a wish more pure than my longing to see her alive.”  
His head tilted backwards when he felt the holy will flooding his corpus.  
Squinting the eyes tightly, the dragon groaned as the Crystal stripped his powers off.  
A faint smile flitted over his face. “I thank thee wholeheartedly.” he whispered relieved.  
When light seemed to consume his bare existence, for a moment Midgardsormr lost consciousness.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

## Note

_I'm usually not typing artist-comments when it comes to my written creations.  
Due to overdoing such texts already in consideration of YouTube (remixes) and DeviantArt (drawings), I normally prefer to let my stories speak for themselves._

_But I guess making an exception here would help to understand why the story will slightly change from here on._

_Before I began writing this fanfic – before it even appeared in my head at all – I was slightly upset that the stories I have access to didn't seem to feature Midgardsormr. A la: Not at all. As if the character didn't play a part.  
In case his name appeared, it was the most of what I could expect from the author. Otherwise, the dragon-father was practically non-existent._

_In winter 2016; actually not much time before the first chapter was finished/published, I got inspired by a song to this text-mess named 'Primogenitor'. (Ironically, not the track from FFXIV's 'Before The Fall' Soundtrack.) Listening randomly to several tracks on my mobile-phone, the song 'Man's Road' by America ran in my ears.  
As I tend to have an active 'head-cinema' which becomes triggered by music, if you want to describe it like that, imagines hoped through my mind that were unsorted Final Fantasy XIV ideas. The strongest impression featured Midgardsormr – walking through a snowstorm; being forced to accept a fate that proud dragons would normally never chose.  
Ergo: Walking the path of humans._

_This picture got stuck in my head plus grew larger until the point where I decided to write the story down.  
In fact, the text was never planned to be that long or take so much time, but after the first chapter was complete, I developed more and more ideas thanks to being somebody who loves details. Also, I wanted to highlight Midgardsormr's slow change of heart considering mortals – and that even he is just a living being who disapproves things as well as yearns for sympathy/friendship/etc. like everybody else._

_Anyway, the next chapter will finally feature the scene which caused this whole fanfic to exist.  
Thus, the events in that text-wall are planned to act as a wearisome march for Midgardsormr – at the most mentally; but also emotional. He will be entirely out of his comfort-zone. Additional, the Methuselah has to suddenly interact with mortals who still make him uneasy, since he looks no longer like an ordinary doll/puppet/minion. Awkwardness on his point of view can be expected to one-hundred percent._

_Call me cruel to throw a pitiful ancient dragon into the 'rumble' of mortal's idiocy, but I truly wish Square Enix would have given him more character-growth in Heavensward than just these little moments in which he appears within dialogues. (Albeit I am glad that he got in Stormblood at least a role considering the Omega-story.)_

_In conclusion – which is some kind of spoiler here, perhaps – I want to express why I chose the shape for Midgardsormr that can be finally 'seen' more or less soon._

_It couldn't be a Chocobo-form, for example, since this would still give him limits which impede a journey on a mortal path. Imagine a talking Chocobo – probably same effect like a speaking doll; silly people would probably want to burn Midgardsormr instantly for heresy. And as I want him to interact with others, this eliminates every possibility apart from races who can actually talk.  
But putting him into the body of a Beast-Tribe-member...? Although I love all species we have so far in the game, that would also not work. Thanks to Ishgard being a cluster of blockheads.  
So, thinking about the choices left, it would appear to be a good idea to come up with something that matches the Heavensward-scenery, right?_

_Well, I tried the idea of an Au Ra shape. I really tried.  
And the result was a clear 'Nope' in my head. It's not only that I can't bring myself to like many male Raen-/Xaela-designs. It's also about the trouble which the species itself must have in Ishgard. The Holy City was harsh to our beloved Darknight-quest-related Sidurgu Orl, so I think socializing with mortals after already losing trust into them could be troublesome for Midgardsormr when he possesses a scary/frightening body.  
I simply don't think he would be able to act as tough as Sidurgu. Standing out like male Au Ra do because of their large shape plus fierce faces could truthfully not help him to feel well amongst humans. He would appear like a nervous, bumbling guy with scales to Ishgard's narrow-minded society – and that's counting for his thoughts plus behavior, too._

_With that being said, how about Elezen? They live after all en masse in Coerthas, right?  
Uhm, at first they are tall and already quite present. Compared to the naive, strange Warrior of Light who Midgardsormr favors at the most, he would still not seem to fit into the group with WoL Carlos the Blackmage, Alphinaud, Haurchefant and Estinien being around. Aymeric is also important even if he doesn't have much reference in the story so far.  
And focusing only on the Methuselah's personal background: I doubt he would want to look like those who betrayed his kind. Probably, if he was caged into such a body, he would rather go to hell than wasting only a second in an Elezen-body._

_With these aspects, I hope I don't let down or rather crush any hopes for some epic Au Ra action or smart Elezen exhibitionism. These choices would have created a more dramatic outcome no matter which one of them, but I guess I aimed on purpose for 'nothing special' in order to match rather smaller details than create an extra rift amongst the story-telling._


	11. Chapter 11

# Chapter Eleven

A tremble ran over his spine.  
Gooseflesh spread as the quake conquered him; muscles tensing.  
Was this, how he should experience the frosty environment from now on...? Didn't seem so different compared to his experiences with the puppet-like vessel... At least the first reaction of the new form was quite understandable. Exposed to the sharp air, it just behaved like any young dragon would do. Albeit there were no wings on the back which could function like a shield...  
Midgardsormr blinked.  
Hydaelyn had been levitating him while she created the new disguise that matched in her opinion his request at the most, yet now Her grace put the Methuselah carefully down. His feet hurt when they touched the ground – the sensitive skin protested noticeably against the cold. For a moment, their flesh heated up in order to protect itself... Toes freezing in the icy snow as the first body-parts just after the phenomenon of higher temperature vanished quickly.  
But strangely enough, these feet became totally numb and resembled rather ice-blocks clinging to his legs than functional limbs. A reaction confusing as well as amusing him, simultaneously. This, as much as he could guess, must be normal for all mortal creatures who weren't blessed with Cecilia's unbelievable warmth.  
Looking at aforesaid maiden, he nodded determined.  
On his shaky, craned stilts he balanced to the carriage-leftovers. Not used to walking on two legs that were much longer compared to any draconic 'construction-plan', he wondered how men and Chocobos alike were able to move as fast as they did. Without a drawn-out tail – ANY tail, especially, he found it troublesome to navigate this lanky design.  
Yet, this body was surprisingly strong for a 'beanpole'.  
Freeing the blanket in order to get it for the Raen was a mere children's game.  
When he wanted to return to her, Midgardsormr glanced unintentional at the dead carter. That Hyur didn't need anymore something which protected him from the cold... but this living disguise here did. Still, the changed dragon hesitated for a moment because of respect he had somehow developed for mentioned man, yet he knew it was a necessity to obtain something to wear.  
He couldn't walk around next to people without clothes.  
Carter's cheap cloak was the only piece which hadn't been damaged. The Methuselah would have taken the pullover underneath it, too, but the wool was soaked with blood, which disgusted him. Smeary fabric was something he had never liked while he was interacting with men in the past, wherefore even this current, extreme situation couldn't change his mind.  
Midgardsormr enveloped his freezing skin in the coat. Amongst the unusual process, he recognized, that his new vessel possessed exactly the same injuries like the puppet-shape before. Seemingly, Hydaelyn used as a base for the new form his own creation...  
The damages were deeply red compared to the skin. The open flesh was a huge contrast to the pale, slightly rosy facade, that was far away from resembling his former, dark-toned disguise. Probably, this body would need medical care... He wasn't good in determining, when mortal shapes actually required treatment and how serious bleeding scratches on them were. Howbeit the word 'scratches' matched perhaps not the way how people thought of those... wounds. At least he knew absolutely, that sleep alone would not suffice to cure this torso.  
Teetering back, his corpus felt a bit better thanks to the clothing.  
It made him exhale deeply while he sank next to the maiden on his knees. For a moment, the visible 'steaming' breath constrained his view – he had forgotten that this was a common trait alias disadvantage of mortals. Something counting from now on for him, as well. Nevertheless, Midgardsormr cautiously wrapped Cecilia into the blanket.  
He was a little nervous when his arms enclosed her fragile shape, since every injury he couldn't see might strengthen the damage inside of the Au Ra if he just touched this body in a wrong way... But, even under this risk, there was no other possibility to rescue her life. It was the only way.  
For the first time – in reality; not in a dream – he pulled her to his chest.  
Just a handful of centimeters made him larger than the maiden. Holding her, the old dragon doubted the disguise's stamina thanks to that, yet had no other choice than to trust into Hydaelyn's miracle. Not always were things like they seemed, so he had to try... The soothing scent of the precious girl in his arms helped him to not lose control over his boiling panic and worry.  
When Midgardsormr lifted Cecilia from the floor, he was despite his concern still perplexed.  
She was indeed not as light as feathers; not like he was used from mortal creatures. A draconic body with the high his new vessel owned would already find her petite; fine-boned shape unnoticeable... But considering how the fugacious disguise was designed, that discovery must be a natural reaction. Matching her size on corporal level changed the conditions.  
As he stood now upright in the snow, the Raen felt on the other hand pleasantly heavy in his arms. If her life wouldn't be in danger... he would have enjoyed carrying Cecilia today for the first time, after it had always been the other way round. Pulling softly closer, he leaned his face for a moment against hers; listened to her breath in order to check her health again. There wasn't much time left... even though she was indirectly stable. That much he could tell.  
Midgardsormr began walking – tramping with much pressure within the legs in order to make sure, that he wouldn't lose balance. No risks allowed, yet no time to waste... Like that, the Methuselah started to climb the stretched spiral-way up; hoping to leave the Witchdrop soon.  
He simply must succeed...

Eyes squinted tight; teeth ground harsh.  
The snow-storm had perhaps lost strength, but remained still troublesome.  
Midgardsormr was unable to walk as fast as he yearned for. Thanks to the sharp gusts which hilariously 'burned' on his face – as well as to the unaccustomed corpus. In the overwhelming cold, endlessly shivering was unavoidable. His feet had become so stiff, that he slowly expected from them to never recover after this task would be over. Permanent damage was logical... And there, where the cloak didn't cover his legs anymore, the numbness had conquered all flesh entirely...  
The father of dragon-kind looked at the unconscious, weakened maiden in his arms.  
He truly missed her naturally high temperature. She had always been his shield since the moment Hydaelyn made him join her... She was his protector... Generous, unconditional guardian...  
Thinking about this turned his stomach upside-down.  
He himself was powerless... Relaying on a naive girl was worse than anything the Mothercrystal could expect from chosen children, since Her grace could not interfere like dragons were able to. The only one who treated Cecilia like a pawn was the ancient fool who carried her right now...  
Never would he have thought a mortal creature could gain something more meaningful and valuable than a dragon's sympathy. But now, in the back of his head crept the vague notion of being not more like simple penalty for a sin this maiden didn't even have committed. He had doomed her...  
The worst about his realization was, that she would never admit this fact.  
As he went further and further through the whirling snow, the vessel's heart hammered painfully against its breakable ribcage. Of course the Methuselah knew, that mortal shapes suffered usually fast under exhaustion... Yet, it was a nuisance to be confronted with this weakness in a moment as such trait wasn't allowed. Also, he recognized nervousness emerging from his subconsciousness when Camp Dragonhead's stonewalls finally appeared before him; making the beat even worse.  
He needed calmness... Anxiety wasn't an option...  
But a trained gaze was still stronger than an ordinary mortal eye. It allowed him to behold a proof, that worry wasn't inappropriate... How much it was correct to assume hostility...  
The sentinels of the castle-complex's gate reacted alarmed, when they saw him in the distance. Their lances were instantly gripped in a threatening manner. Watching that, he marginally noticed gooseflesh on his skin; an ice-cold air-stream underneath the cloak although this wasn't possible.  
Yet, the snowfall within the storm reduced slowly, wherefore the knights were thankfully able to see more than just a suspicious man coming to their home.  
The two Elezen jerked slightly in shock when they recognized the unconscious Au Ra in Midgardsormr's arms. Calling full-throated for a doctor, one of them ran straight into the settlement, while the other went quickly to the dragon caged in a mortal vessel; dutifully seeking to help him. An unusual experience... If the soldier knew, that he faced an enemy, it wouldn't be this way...  
The Methuselah remembered pretty well the feeling of metal; carved into his scales.  
Rashly, the armored man reached out for Cecilia. “Let me help you. I can bring her to our physician so we won't lose important minutes.” he offered. Even though it was an unalloyed noble intention, the ancient being in disguise shook his head.  
With determined footsteps through Camp Dragonhead's gate the Methuselah signaled following, that the maiden's weight was yet no burden. Nevertheless, the Elezen walked right behind him: “Okay, but I'm here in case it becomes too hard for you. Just tell me when you need a break.”  
The disguised dragon nodded, yet knew he wouldn't accept the help.  
In secret Midgardsormr didn't want a stranger to hold his precious girl. The bare thought vexed him. Surely blind possessiveness wasn't logical now, but... He could hardly keep himself in check. Beholding people on the street who noticed him with their whole consciousness made his instincts run wild. They might just see one of their kind and therefore he had no reason to fear them... Anyhow, nothing had the power to convince him of safety.  
Nothing except her... Only Cecilia could do so...  
A doctor and his female assistant appeared. The second sentinel led them with lots of space between their bodies; as a trained Elezen much faster than both Hyur. He looked worried at the Au Ra before duty forced him to return even unwilling to his place in front of the gate, since at least one person had to nonstop guard it. His reluctance was strange to behold... Probably, Cecilia was much more famous in Central Coerthas than Midgardsormr had realized so far...  
“This adventurer...! What happened to her?” the doctor called appalled, while his feet had not yet brought him to the Methuselah plus the clingy gate-guarding elf who still overlooked the situation. Aforesaid Elezen next to Midgardsormr replied instantly: “These two were attacked by heretics!” Such words seemed to be a standard-response, as the bespectacled physician nodded knowingly.  
Panting, he sprinted the last few meters in order to reach the unconscious Raen.  
While Midgardsormr approached the Hyur as well, he noticed something disturbing... Apart from the gazes of the humans on the street, to be clear... His corpus caved slowly under missing strength. As the doctor was instantly busy with examining Cecilia per pulse-check, the dragon found it more and more exhausting to hold her. Those reserves which his new vessel owned seemed pretty low... For a draconic ratio, a comparable adult body would endure much more than this pitiful shape.  
How could mortals be okay with such limited bodies every single day?  
The eyes behind the doctor's glasses became deadly serious: “Firstly, I prescribe a proper treatment of her injuries in a heated sick-chamber after rendering first-aid – you keeper-idiots should have brought her quickly to me instant of urging this slow old man to leave his surgery! Secondly---”  
“CECILIA!” a familiar voice boomed in the air.  
Midgardsormr was in private relieved to see the familiar face of Haurchefant Greystone afield. Finally a mortal who didn't unsettle him... As one of Ishgard's best swordsmen, the Fortemps-son was in the blink of an eye by their sides; beholding hastily the favorite Warrior with widened, anxious irises. His face was a frozen mask of horror.  
“What's wrong with her?! Why is she so pale?!” his voice almost cracked by fear as he nearly shouted these questions. Seeing Haurchefant out of control like this made the Methuselah realize, that at least a small remnant of self-discipline was left within his ancient mind... “SECONDLY...” ,the doctor repeated sharply while he sent healing energy into Cecilia, “...she is in a coma.”  
As the last word reached their ears, both Midgardsormr and Haurchefant winced in shock. Coma...? The mysterious condition which mortals were not always overcoming after losing consciousness? Something which could take a mind forever away even if the body seemed to be intact?  
THIS was happening to the precious girl...?  
Stomaching aforesaid information was harder than the increasing loss of stamina... The old Hyur, nevertheless, continued the explanation without noticing Midgardsormr's grave shock: “Her system was probably at the most damaged on the inside through a heavy fall instead of ordinary attacks. Magic might have weakened her drastically as well as paralyzed her nerves, but what truthfully almost killed this woman was a forceful impact with hard floor. It's a miracle that her heart still continues beating.”  
Keen eyes. Educated mind. Precise words. This spectacle-wearer needed not more than looking at the maiden and checking her pulse for knowing so much. He also stabilized the knock in her chest as if doing so was a mere blink of an eye for him. It was... quite impressive to behold. Especially, because this man was younger than teenage-dragons. Hence nothing could be more unbelievable than the fact how wasted mortal existences were with this hilarious short lifespan.  
Hilarious... that the father of dragon-kind was now like that, too.  
The first-aid seemed to be done as the physician withdrew from the Raen. “Now, could we bring her to my surgery, finally? I won't be able to do much more for my patient in the cold air as a doter, don't you juveniles think?” the speccy man demanded impatient; embarrassing his female assistant who was much younger than her boss.  
As commander of Camp Dragonhead, the Fortemps-knight should probably reprimand the doctor, but he didn't concern himself with the harsh words. Lightly touching Midgardsormr's left arm, Haurchefant asked instead with a direct gaze into the dragon's wide eyes: “Can I carry Cecilia...? I'm worried about her... And you look tired... Please, am I allowed to...?”

Sky-blue irises examined the bewildered Methuselah observant.  
Unable to hold eye-contact, Midgardsormr looked down at the maiden's face.  
All his instincts fought against the decision, but he knew this new vessel was reaching its limit. Plus, the Fortemps-son deserved at least a little bit trust... Probably as the only inhabitant of Ishgard as well as generally Coerthas. Because... The unconditional faith in the Warriors of Light demonstrated a true rarity amongst humans of this area. A benign, warm heart. That was, after all, what Cecilia herself liked so much about the showpiece-Elezen.  
He gave in.  
Lifting the maiden into Haurchefant's arms, the dragon couldn't help but also loose against his need. When the good knight held her, Midgardsormr touched her left cheek. As if a small boulder was removed from his shoulders, the Methuselah felt a minimal warmth under his fingers. Not much – practically like a small burning candle in the coldness – yet next to her heartbeat a glimpse of hope. A sign... that her body could perhaps recover.  
But... what about her mind...?  
“Thank you...” the Fortemps-knight said hushed with a little smile on his lips.  
All the dragon could do as some kind of response was to nod slightly. It felt too strange ; too foreign to think of ANY words meant for a person who was not Cecilia. Above all, the situation became even more awkward in this very second: Erik came to the fore. Keeping a bit distance, the Marauder internalized with raised brows the scene. It was very likely, that this man was raging inwardly... Nothing could make the Warrior's leader more aggressive than pain inflicted upon his 'sister'.  
Haurchefant and the doctor set off – not recognizing the Raen's 'brother'.  
Anyway, the physician's assistant didn't leave. Instead, she studied Midgardsormr – the dim eyes seemed to pity every millimeter of his battered disguise. Without Cecilia in his arms, he didn't know which reaction might be appropriate to counter such an unabashed stare.  
The female Hyur stated: “You are not in a good shape either, right? You got hurt in the fight, too... Come later to me – I will treat you. What's your name? I have to write all patient-names down...” Pulling out a small scratchpad from her robe's pocket, she stared at him even more.  
This woman seemed to be attracted to his mortal shape – even he as an antique fool figured that out. But he couldn't care less for a fatuitous nurse... His mind was busy with developing an answer to something as banal as the question of a dragon's name. Normally it was self-evident for mortals how to address their sworn enemies; formerly allies. There was no need to introduce oneself...  
How could even somebody care, which appellation this dispensable, featureless vessel here wore...? It was a false front... Would sooner or later die... Who cared for its name?!  
Feeling Erik's sharp eyes in his neck like a blade, Midgardsormr was entirely over-strained.  
The only response he could think of was the joke Cecilia had made a few days ago – days that were seemingly eternities away from today. And... Not directly a joke, no... When the archmage mentioned how she would have called him – as description for the cooperative children helping her to find the runaway 'puppet' – in case he had been humane...  
“Midge... Luminae.”  
His voice sounded foreign in his ears.  
It was too bright; too young. Simply altered. It sounded like it had once been millenniums ago... When he was not even a father yet. When he had just been, what humans described as young adults. The pitch was quite similar to Aymeric's voice...  
However, his mortal disguise itself must be younger than he was expecting. The realization made his heart skip a few beats. Nervously, he lifted his right hand – let it brush over his forehead. Mentioned action pretended to push a hair-strand out of his face, but in truth he palpated the skin. This texture felt clean and was quite flat; possessing no deep wrinkles.  
While his perplexity petrified the dragon, doctor's assistant nodded as response to his declaration and wrote the lie down into her scratchpad with a sharpened pencil. Gaping for a few more seconds at the Methuselah, her gaze wandered suddenly in shame down to the ground.  
“Oh! You have no shoes!” she mentioned startled. He jerked a little as the nurse studied his feet with worried eyes. Before he could respond, she said: “Here, you can have my old Maple Pattens. They were always too big for me and I already bought new ones. Sentimentality didn't let me trash the only gift my boss ever gave me, but you definitely need them more than I do. It's really okay when you take the pattens. You don't need to pay me.”  
Not asking for permission, the assistant took the shoes off and put his feet into them. The touch was too swift for him to avoid, but he felt deeply debased to be physically contacted by a foreign mortal. Aversion mixed with shock slipped over his mien. Remnants of his true body's death. As she stood again upright next to him, the woman beheld his stressed or fierce expression. As if bitten by a dog, the assistant hurried to return to her workplace; leaving a confused dragon behind.

His irritation got quickly diffused.  
Because Cecilia's so-called brother came closer to him.  
Looking at the vanishing nurse, the man's attention lay of course still on something else.  
“Wow, trends reach me obviously way too late when I would like to take part. I haven't recognized, how popular 'Extreme Nordic Walking' had recently become. Say, would you recommend the sport for an amateur like me?” the ill-humored Hyur asked with a mocking smirk. The gray-blue eyes glanced additionally for a short moment sideways at Midgardsormr – in an insulting, harsh way. They demonstrated, that Erik was inwardly angered, even if he acted in an amused manner.  
Sighing, the dragon caged in a humane corpus lowered his gaze at the ground.  
He wasn't in the mood for any sick discussions with an enraged brother-figure who just waited for the right moment to behead him... After all, Erik knew for sure what the word 'coma' meant... Fearing, that the beloved 'sister' would never recover, could easily turn the Hyur into a savage.  
But... even if the Methuselah hated to do so... Even detested his new--- old--- or whatever voice... He could not stay quiet even with a battle-ax within reach. The churning chaos inside of him was very close to take him over, too, so he needed something to channel it.  
“Making jokes does not unburden the situation...” he muttered consumed by anger; guilt.  
The bright, stinging glow of his irises emerged for a moment, just in order to wither quickly because his self-hatred drowned in the pure worry for the archmage. He felt awkward to experience so many sentiments in the same moment... Wrath; rage; sorrow; anguish; confusion; frustration. Such a fast contrast-bath of emotions was foreign to him; almost unworldly.  
There had been akin moments before in his past, but...  
Not so intense...  
Despite his bad mental condition, he noticed, how Erik shrugged unperturbed. Without another sign of sarcasm, the Warrior stated: “We all need from time to time somebody who acts like an uncaring, foul idiot. It makes us realize how glad we can be to have sensitive hearts. You should be happy, that you still possess such strong feelings like regret and anxiety, Midgard.”  
The Methuselah raised his head in an instant. Eyes ripped widely open.  
“W-What...?” he began perplexed, but no more words left his trembling mouth.  
Erik bestowed now a direct smile at him, but that mortal mien showed no longer devilish facets. Those metallic windows of a humane soul reflected honest pity, while the man's lips barely held up the try of a comforting expression. Somehow, the gruff Marauder seemed to have suddenly unleashed his sentimental side.  
“I know you.” ,Erik started almost dovelike, “So why should I not distinguish the old-timer-dragon whom I'm used to, when he just appears in another shape...? I figured out, that you would do a lot – as long as it's for Ceci. Edgar is quite the same, after all, though he comes from my Eorzea...”  
Over-strained by these words, the dragon couldn't react.  
Everything happening without Cecilia close to him had a paralyzing effect...  
Thus, asking for details was impossible – even though he wished to finally question things.  
His interlocutor noticed that, so he continued: “The bird betrayed me when we reached this Eorzea. See, he became loyal to her in the very second he lay his chocolate-eyes on my personal sister. Before that occurrence, nobody else than me would have been able to ride on this white Chocobo. And now? Tss, not even I can dream about his devotion. Therefore... it is no miracle, what you did. That you sacrificed yourself for her. You might be another version of MY geezer, but... It's always the same thing with you bullhead. The one chosen by you... gains all of your dedication.”  
Erik smiled suddenly in a vulnerable manner.  
As if an old wound would have again opened – bleeding him empty.  
“Albeit I must admit... Giving your immortality up... impacts on me by far more than the last action your other version had done for me. I thought his powerful kamikaze-performance in order to cover Edgar's and my escape from our dying world would be the greatest--- most selflessly renunciation Midgardsormr would ever be able to go through with... Yet, I was wrong... Because you surpass it. You surpass him. Your friendship with my sister surpasses ours. She affects you so far, FAR better than I could have ever hoped for to do for my companion. Cecilia is... like a remedy for you.”  
The dragon shook slowly his head; the widened eyes full of overstress.  
He couldn't take it to hear her name now.  
“Thou must be mistaken... Thou cannot be serious in this moment... I am not... what thou try to picture me as... I am not... like a hero... If I was such a being... she wouldn't be now in a coma... Nothing and nobody would have harmed her... I would have kept her SAVE...!” his voice lost from word to word its usual calm, muted nature; almost screaming the last letters in self-abhorrence.  
Groaning intense, he squinted the eyes and held his head. Tore on the rather short hair of this skull. Bit the humane lips with clenched jaws. Tasted the altered blood in his mouth. Oh Her grace, Hydaelyn... He wished to destroy the corpus for which he had prayed way, way too late...  
If the maiden's mind shouldn't recover...  
He wouldn't survive the loss...

“Kweeeh....?”  
Tender, anxious tweets filled the silent air.  
Opening his eyes, the Methuselah saw a familiar white bird approaching.  
The chocolate-brown irises studied him; wisdom wafting in their expression. Midgardsormr noticed slightly crestfallen, that the Chocobo identified him once more. Despite the different disguise, somehow Edgar had no trouble to see through the illusion; to see the ancient dragon.  
He came slowly close to him and lowered the feathered head with that threatening beak.  
Closing the lids in expectation, Midgardsormr uttered soundless: “I deserve it... Do thy worst...” Strangely, the bird didn't peck him this time. Instead of that, he abruptly nuzzled the Methuselah with both face and spout. Giving compassionate gazes when the dragon dared to look at him.  
“I-I... I do not understand...” the antique male stuttered muted.  
Edgar continued unperturbed; fine plumage pressing softly on Midgardsormr's right cheek. Gentleness lay in the action which was the pure opposite to his normal behavior. As if the Chocobo had completely forgotten, how he used to treat him... But... Was this perhaps... supposed to be some kind of comforting?  
Glancing helpless at Erik, it didn't look like that man was going to help him. The Warrior's leader just chuckled minimal with a weary smile... Then, Erik folded his arms and commented: “Let him. My ex-vehicle was sulking since the moment our old geezer had sacrificed himself. The lost version of yours made sure that we could escape from our decaying world – albeit that meant to be on the cost of his life. Hence, Edgar could of course not stand it to see Midgard again. It doesn't matter, that you're another exemplar. You are still you.”  
Sinking to his knees, Edgar tugged cautiously at the cloak's sleeve. Doing so several times with more and more strength, the Chocobo's doing irritated Midgardsormr. Beholding the weird being, he payed nevertheless attention to Erik's next words: “Above all, his beloved Cecilia cares obviously a lot for 'the new Midgard'. In other words... You were additionally angering him. It's not, like he would share her willingly with a 'disloyal bandit'. But in spite of that, he is still fond of the old dragon we got to meet in our world. And as he owns lots of sensitivity, he feels your pain now. How much my sister means to you. This proof of affection makes him forgive the 'traitor'.”  
Letting go of the sleeve, Edgar nudged Midgardsormr's ribcage two times.  
“What art thou doing?” he whispered confused. It hurt where the bird touched him...  
Impatience slipped over the Chocobo's face. Before the dragon could react to it, that beak snatched his cloak; tearing at the fabric. This creature possessed obviously lots of strength, because it easily dragged him without trouble onto its back despite his struggle. Erik watched their interaction with unhindered malicious-joy – laughed devilish when Midgardsormr stared over-strained at him.  
Holding the hurting bones, the Methuselah complained: “Thou thinkest this is amusing...?!”  
“From my point of view, it is.” ,the rude man replied, “Your alternate version made always sure Edgar wouldn't push too hard. I suppose in return he prevents any additional exhaustion for you because he feels like owing you the favor. Well, just let him carry you to the medical office. Supposed, that you do not want to be injured longer than necessary.” Mildly laughing, the Marauder watched when his former pet stood up with an upset, disguised dragon on its back.  
While the Chocobo trotted unhurried along the way so Erik could keep up with his tempo, Midgardsormr recognized quietly: “I'm irritated... It always seemed this creature was adoring thee... But thou said he does no longer allow thee to ride on him...”  
“Of course not. Ceci is Edgar's self-chosen master in this world. He has switched his preferences. … We are still best buddies, if you are worried about that point. Thus he 'adores' me, like you said. Only the intensity became weaker in favor of my sister.” Furrowing the brows, the Methuselah got for a short moment distracted by a returning patrol who carried a familiar looking Hyur-corpse, before he gaped disbelieving at Erik.  
“You dragons really have a personal problem with 'betrayals', huh?” ,the impolite Hyur stated in a mocking tune, “I recall when my geezer was not happy because I sympathized with Haurchefant. Since I was 'dropping' Alphinaud. But in the very moment I got to befriend Aymeric, oh well... Midgard was completely enraged for days. The only way he would communicate with me were furious snarls and hissing.”  
“Thou art awfully talkative when thou art speaking to me...” the dragon noticed when they reached the targeted building. Helping him down from Edgar, the Marauder answered: “I always get excited when I think about my ancient comrade. For an unknown reason, none of my friends' versions in this world trigger this excitement, respectively, but you do it all the more. Special case, you see. Perhaps because I'm happy whom you choose this time. I would no longer match you. As I got... disillusioned when my world died.”  
Erik squeezed Midgardsormr's hand before he let go of it; confusing the Methuselah.  
Hardly enduring Edgar's impatient head pressing him to the door, he asked: “Thou hast lost faith? And therefore, even thy bird chose somebody more... bright...?” Shrugging, the Ax-bearer opened the squeaky wood for him. “Like the dragons got shocked by what happened to one of their kind... we humans can also be changed forever.” “Thou know about...?” the dragon-father couldn't speak any further as two humans stood in the entrance-room.  
Smirking, the Marauder pulled Midgardsormr's head slightly to the side; leaning his gruff mouth against the left ear of the disguised being. His voice was a husky, almost evil whisper: “Ratatoskr? Of course I do. The one telling me about her in my world, after all... was you.”  
Paralyzed by this information, the dragon couldn't move.  
An abrupt snort and rolling eyes demonstrated Erik's displeasure about it, yet the Marauder simply pulled Midgardsormr to the room where the nurse from before was currently writing down something in a thick book. “Got already time to care for my buddy?” the Warrior's leader said with a pitch sounding entirely wrong. It was... a charming tune. Under tender glances coming from those normally cold steel-eyes, the assistant blushed: “O-Of course I can treat him now. M-My boss doesn't need me at the moment as he called for a skilled healer to support him. Therefore, naturally your friend will have my fullest attention. Y-You can stay if you want.”  
“Good to hear.” the manipulate man stated contended.

While the woman led Midgardsormr to a stool, the dragon couldn't help it.  
Using telepathy, he snarled quietly: 'Thou show me another reason for disliking thee...' Erik grinned like a demon; fully aware of the sin. Then, Her gift – truthfully wasted on this man – made him able to respond self-absorbed: 'I CAN be nice to other humans despite my personal scars, even though it's just a means to an end. Strangers bore me. And the mirrors of familiar faces in this world do hardly hold my interest. For Cecilia, on the other hand... I don't feel like faking it.'  
The only thing they had in common...  
Clear affection for this special Au Ra was all what connected them.  
Sitting down, Midgardsormr beheld skeptical as the nurse tried to take the cloak away. Unsettled by the prospect of another unwanted contact, he murmured: “This is... the only piece of cloth I wear...” She raised her head and stared with big eyes at him; Erik chuckled ill-humored about the situation.  
How could another Midgardsormr have ever been attached to this man...?  
“W-Well then... Under these circumstances, I will just open the upper part of your cloak. And set your arms free. Is that okay for you?” the nurse aspirated embarrassed. Nodding, the dragon signaled full cooperation, wherefore she did what she had announced.  
Gooseflesh spread over his skin thanks to the exposure; not for the air as the chamber was warm. He gave his very best to stay in control as she palpated his skin in order to check the injuries' state, yet, it felt so unnatural... Mortal fingers on his vulnerable chest were wrong even though his body was also humanely... The disinfection afterwards burned worse than a sharp sword cutting through his scales or organs, but he stayed notwithstanding motionless.  
'Keep the panic down... Keep. It. Down...' he told himself over and over.  
Rubbing thick ointment into his flesh, the woman didn't notice the pained expression lingering in his eyes. Erik, however, was attentive: “Please be gentle with my buddy. He is a shy man and doesn't dare to admit when something hurts.” His words made the nurse's head become deeply red. The darkened color didn't vanish albeit her eyes did never look up. Midgardsormr glanced irritated at the Warrior's leader. 'Why is thy phrase making her feel uncomfortable?' he wanted to know while those hands on his wounds touched him much more careful.  
The steely eyes observing him glistered in amusement. 'Keh... Innocent old geezer... She got an adult mind. Or should I say... dirty? Just count one and one together.' that nasty man suggested. Wrinkling his nose, Midgardsormr understood now the abstract idea this woman must have in mind. As a bandage was put around his chest, he replied cold: 'I pity this female... Not being able to see how much I despise thee made her fall for thy pretended consideration. Thy lie. Unabashed as only thou would be... Above all, thou playest with her seemingly romantic thoughts.'  
Tiny chuckling assured him, how less Erik cared for the insult. But for the trick itself he showed some interest: 'Women tolerate not only, but love couples of the same gender. In my world, I was victim of their fluffy imagination in consideration of Haurchefant. This was sometimes helpful, sometimes a pain in the neck. Although Aymeric didn't like that at all. Hence, you old dragon rebuked me often. Telling me to not overdo my luck with those favoring me.'  
Midgardsormr furrowed his brows.  
While the nurse tested, if his bandage was not too tight, he asked: 'Thou art... not picky when it comes to thy mate's gender...? But didn't thou speak sometimes kindly of this dead woman, Moenbryda?' Odd silence lasted for a short moment. And astonished eyes studied him. As if he had uttered something hilariously wrong. But then: 'Meh, just look who behaves typical for his former--- original standards. Hah, poor Midgard. I had forgotten that YOU are not used to me being bisexual. Hope this will not make you grow now some grey hair.'  
In fact, it didn't disturb the Methuselah. Because of Cecilia's preferences, it wasn't shocking to hear, how her so-called brother was similar different compared to ordinary mortals. The only thing which confused him was the mention of Aymeric's name... The way how Erik pronounced this name... Restrained agony floated in the sound his thoughts made.  
The nurse let finally go of Midgardsormr. He was relieved to feel no longer these foreign hands on his body, yet didn't forget this time his manners. It was appropriate, after all, albeit his words revealed shyness: “I thank thee... Thou hast not only cared for my injuries, but hast also given me thy shoes before... This was... very bounteous...” She smiled embarrassed at him. There was really no denial, that her mind was drawn to his disguise...  
“Do not let him woo you.” ,Erik grinned, “He is for sure too old for such a pretty, young angel.” Listening beet-red to the compliment, the woman laughed abashed: “Oh, aren't you a sugary rascal, Mister Marauder.” With that, her attention drifted entirely to mentioned man.  
Sighing eased, Midgardsormr got dressed.  
'Do not misinterpret my friendliness. I just prevent her from becoming too attracted. It's better when she doesn't adore you more than necessary as long as you can't take it well. We have no time for collecting silly devotees who don't get you.' the calculating Hyur explained. As the dragon gripped with a shiver in his hands the cloak's last button, he trembled slightly. 'In spite of thy maliciousness, I fear I have to be grateful... Her touch was indeed over-straining me...'  
Feet quivering, the Methuselah stood slowly up.  
His mental reserves were slowly falling into a never-ending abyss...  
If Erik had recognized that issue or not, he couldn't tell for sure, but the Hyur was anyways helpful. He asked bluntly: “Can we go to see my sister or does the doc need more time?” Shaking her head, the nurse replied: “Perhaps you can visit her already, but it's better to ask my boss before doing so. Wait a moment to let me call him.”  
While she pulled a linkpearl out of the pocket, the Warrior's leader commented: 'These things really have come in handy... While I was at Whitebrim, Haurchefant phoned me because Ceci didn't return from Steel Virgil. I passed the knowledge per linkshell to the others in Ishgard, but told them to wait before doing anything headless. And when I returned to Camp Dragonhead plus heard the sentinel shouting for a doctor, guess what I did firstly before coming to you.'  
The nurse's call was short and quick; resulting in the allowance to see the maiden. But...  
“When you walk to the respective sick-room... Please be prepared that she'll be still fast asleep. There's no miracle going to happen.” ,the woman said with a compassionate expression, “Her body is going to recover comparably quickly in the next weeks, yet this counts not for her consciousness. We cannot say if or when she will wake up.”  
Midgardsormr squinted the eyes in agony; unable to breathe.  
Erik scratched audible his head: “I'd lie if I pretended to have not hoped for nicer news... A straw we all could clutch at... Uff, can't be helped anymore, I guess. Let's go, Midge.”

Haurchefant stood next to a small bed in the chamber's opposite corner.  
Softly, his hand rested on her pale forehead; caressing the maiden as he beheld the peaceful face.  
Midgardsormr gulped when he saw this scene. Knowing, how much the Elezen was holding Cecilia in his heart, made him feel unneeded as well as out of place. It wasn't his right to be here... Especially not after failing to do the right thing. To do the right thing in the very first moment – when he woke up in Witchdrop's depths... His realization; his prayer had almost been too late. Almost taking her life. Something as unforgivable as Ishgard's sin in the past...  
The Fortemps-son, on the other hand, would probably not have hesitated to sacrifice whatever was necessary to save her... He wouldn’t have needed a moment to realize, what to do...  
“She's... on the inside gravely injured. The doctor said, she had surely died in case one more hour would have passed.” the knight spoke soundless. Like a blade, these words were cutting into Midgardsormr's chest albeit he had emotionally been aware before of her condition.  
Erik nodded and stepped to Haurchefant's side: “Yet, her body will recover. Ceci's a strong-willed, energetic woman. Do not bury your head like an ostrich into the sand – or snow. She will be fine.” “If it would be that simple... It's frustrating we can't help her.” the Fortemps-son sighed gloomily. Apparently entire natural, the Marauder patted Haurchefant's left shoulder. “Stay as positive as we know you. She's surely not happy in case you'll lose your smile.” The corners of the Elezen's mouth went a little up: “Thanks... Still, I wish I could just do something for her.”  
“How about getting her to a proper environment, then?” a masculine voice asked.  
Turning bewildered around, the dragon spotted Cid Garlond right behind him. The engineer payed no attention to Midgardsormr, though. Instead of this, he passed him and stopped in front of the bed – eyeballing the other two mortals with severe gazes that resembled a wolf's glance.  
Raising one brow, Erik stated: “That was indeed quick... I didn't expect you to be so early here.” The white-bearded man shook his head in resignation. Afterwards, he grumbled: “Biggs and Wedge can work for a moment by themselves. After all, they did so for five years... No need to point it out. But Cecilia isn't able wait that long. We should bring her as fast as possible to Ishgard.”  
“What?! You can't be serious!” ,the knight protested indignant, “She is in a deadly weakened state! How can you even consider a transport?!” Studying Haurchefant with caustic eyes that were even harsher than a dragon's judgement, Cid stated soberly: “No horse or carriage could be as smooth and fast as the Enterprise. Besides, you think of the drawbacks to let her stay in Camp Dragonhead? It's not save here, if you compare the settlement to your Holy City. And due to better medical care, recovering is more likely for her in a warm chamber of Ishgard.”  
“But her condition... What if the travel is too much for her system? Do the two of you really think she could take it now?” the Elezen asked worried while he looked at both men. Erik just nodded; the engineer responded: “A change of mind won't happen – since we know it's the best for Cecilia. Especially in case the Count allows us to use a permanent guestroom in the manor instead of temporarily abidance which the Warriors had asked for. That would be far more effective than any shabby room in this settlement. Not meant to offend you, but all resources for a good treatment can rather be found at your official home than here.”  
“You really think so, too, don't you...?” Haurchefant asked hopeless while he gazed into Erik's eyes. “Yeah.” ,the gruff man replied, “Even though I know how discomposed you feel, I must still insist on the rational solution. Greater safety plus more specialized doctors are an unignorably advantage we simply don't have here.”  
Under these solid arguments, the knight looked down at the floor; eventually forced to give in: “Okay... I accept your reasons... Just let me ask the physician if he's fine with the transport.”  
It was not directly a miracle to watch how Haurchefant utilized like the nurse before a linkpearl for the short-lived discussion with mentioned spectacle-wearer. Yet, ostensible he had been the only one who needed a lot convincing, because his call ended quickly with the result of satisfying that wish both Hyur had formulated.  
While all of this happened, Midgardsormr just kept silent. He didn't know, what would be the best for her, since dragons didn't do more than simply sleeping until their injuries vanished. Therefore, he hoped Erik's decision would be the correct thing to do, as he himself was entirely useless...  
Was this, what mortals called a depression?  
Cid folded the arms when Haurchefant had announced the doctor's decree.  
Leaning his head onto the right shoulder, the engineer questioned Erik: “Are you sure, by the way, that Count Fortemps will welcome the 'assault'? I heard you guys were not accepting an offer to stay at the mansion.” The Marauder sighed shortly: “Well... For now, the Lord is fine that we unfaithful asked to borrow a sick-room. But it wouldn't be wrong to ask explicit for a longer stay, that's right. We preferred the tavern while we had the chance to live in Fortemps' villa, so indeed Sir Edmont will probably not enjoy our greedy request. Yet, we will nevertheless beg him.”  
Putting the linkpearl away, the knight added earnestly: “Excuse me, my father is a generous man. Because of everything what you Warriors of Light have done so far for us as Coerthas' inhabitants, he is unconditionally proud to call you all friends of the Fortemps. Thus, you rather dishonor him when you do not ask for help. At the most, when it is for Cecilia. I never kept it a secret how much she means to me, hence my father knows about her importance.”  
For a moment, this statement was hurting Midgardsormr.  
But the dragon forbade himself to dive deeper into this feeling of jealousy. He had all done what mere dragon-kind could do for a mortal maiden – even more than that. Now, it wasn't his place anymore to demonstrate possessiveness.  
“We need some kind of stretcher to bring her to the Enterprise.” ,Cid recognized concentrated, “Carrying Cecilia on my shoulders would normally be no problem, but I doubt her state of health allows such an action now.” How taken for granted the engineer could pronounce this last phrase... On his shoulders; just like he had embraced her back then in Abalathia... Narrowing the lids, Midgardsormr pushed the memory of Cid holding the amused girl into the air aside.  
'Stay in control.' he commanded himself sternly.  
Haurchefant left the room in order to obtain the requested object; passing the disguised Methuselah with a perplexed expression in the eyes when those noticed him standing next to the door. Seemingly, nobody was caring enough for him to question his presence. Which should really be delighting the dragon – if there wouldn't be a urgent question pressing onto his brain...  
When the knight returned, it was him who asked the thought which burdened Midgardsormr's mind: “Say, what about your friend, Erik? Where will he stay?” Raising the brows as if a banal topic would have come up, the Marauder didn't bother to give an answer. Instead, he took the stretcher from Haurchefant and put it next to the bed on the ground.  
While Cid helped the 'brother' to place the maiden – mostly covered in a thick brown blanket – carefully onto this aid, the white-bearded man asked: “You don't tell me, that you want to take him to Ishgard, right? Without any allowance from higher instances, the laws won't let you pick this unjustified visitor up. In worst case, Inquisitors will use him to condemn you for betrayal.”  
When the two Hyur slowly lifted the stretcher, the Warrior answered focused with severe gazes at Cid and Haurchefant: “No law is going to tell me I have to leave my friend behind. Can't you see how shocked he is? He's the most peaceful adventurer you'll ever going to meet – and he was confronted with such a horrible situation like watching his beloved one almost dying. I can't live with separating him now from Ceci. And I hope none of you could.”  
Both men stared over-strained at Erik as well as Midgardsormr. Completely bewildered, however, the dragon wasn't able to react. His brain was busy with encoding the meaning behind these words. The Marauder, though, wasn't unsettled or impaired in any way: “C'mon, guys, let's carry my sister to the airship. Today, if you don't mind.”  
Cid – meanwhile positively surprised – did as Erik asked, so they passed the irritated knight and frozen Methuselah. However, the adventurer stated loud-mouthed in the corridor: “Haurchefant, could you take Midge to the Enterprise, please? I guess his shyness is paralyzing him right now. Surely he's not yet officially used to being Ceci's darling, but I can promise you anyways she'll get plumply angry with us in case we let him now alone like that.”  
Jerking, the Fortemps-son got a grip and asked politely: “Shall I show you the way, Midge?” Staring with widened eyes at the knight, Midgardsormr nodded helplessly. His visible awkwardness seemed to calm Haurchefant's own trouble, because the Elezen smiled knowingly and put a hand onto the dragon's shoulder. Oddly enough, the contact wasn't unbearable. It was comforting.  
“Everything will be okay, I promise.” the sympathetic man uttered.

Right in front of Camp Dragonhead.  
Next to the road on a flat spot, the Enterprise had been landed.  
Cid's airship seemed to brave even the returning snowfall. Unperturbed by the icy gusts, it's sail did barely move with the air-streams. Bent not under any kind of pressure. Surely the construct wasn't for nothing the most valuable thing which the engineer owned.  
As the little group walked through the ice-crystals, Midgardsormr was in secret relieved thanks to the unorthodox vehicle. Imagining, how far away Ishgard truly was and how long the Steps of Faith were, he wouldn't have agreed on transporting the archmage by feet. At least so much he knew about mortal health: Walking in the cold took too much time plus reserves. And yes, a carriage wasn't much better thanks to all these quakes while driving on the snowy street.  
Edgar accompanied them.  
But it wasn't for joining the trip. The Chocobo bore only interest into seeing, if his master was treated in the way she deserved it during her transport. His brown eyes were silently speaking of helplessness and resignation, thus the animal wasn't considering to go to Ishgard as well – despite nothing preventing him from doing that. Such intelligent bird was truly a rare occurrence...  
Cid and Erik went without problems onto the object; laying the stretcher down in the ship's middle. While the former started the motors, the later helped Midgardsormr to climb onto the Enterprise. Tight grip around his right hand, the Marauder pulled him quickly up. This wasn't going all too well with these unaccustomed legs, though, wherefore the dragon stumbled.  
Fortunately, Haurchefant stabilized him instantly, so the Methuselah wasn't falling backwards. “Careful, Midge. Don't hurt yourself.” the knight said gently; confusing Midgardsormr who still wasn't coping well with being treated like a human. While Erik dragged him now swiftly aboard, the Elezen followed only when he was sure that the disguised dragon was fine.  
Such gentleness coming from an enemy was foreign to Midgardsormr...  
He didn't know what to do or how to behave, which made him feel quite nervous. The anxiety was choking him to the point where no word would leave his throat even if he wanted to. But at least something small could distract his petrified mind... As her 'brother' checked Cecilia's breath, Midgardsormr found an option to make himself useful. Next to the stretcher, he sat down in order to hold two of the carry-handles. Just in case; to avoid any turbulences.  
The Marauder and Fortemps-knight meanwhile took standing-rooms next to the steering-wheel. Glancing at the maiden, Cid frowned and navigated afterwards the Enterprise into the air. Strange... Wasn't he acting very self-confident before...? Looked like Erik's stubbornness had not entirely convinced the engineer of the transport...  
Anyway, the vehicle's movement was unusual for the disguised dragon. So far he had only traveled on airships due to occupying the maiden's shoulder or weapon. Therefore, it startled him a bit to feel all the vibrations unhindered. Watching Cecilia's pale face with worried eyes, he hoped the flight wouldn't last any longer than necessary. Even as a smooth possibility to reach Ishgard, he was afraid every single tremble could strengthen her injuries... In the next few minutes, the Methuselah kept perfectly still to hold the stretcher in place; not twitching a single muscle.  
Then...  
Reaching Ishgard's port made the Enterprise shake notedly underneath.  
Thus, his hands clawed unintended into both carry-handles; jaws clenched and eyes widened. Logically considered, the ship's quake wasn't troublesome. No problem at all. But an ancient dragon who wasn't used to such voyaging could nevertheless find the halt quite unsettling. He cramped... Only when Cid's vehicle stopped entirely, he dared to let the stretcher go.  
Standing up on slightly shaking stilts, Midgardsormr looked nervously around.  
To his relief, the airport wasn't very lively. There were only two employees; nothing to care for...  
When Erik and Cid gripped once more the stretcher, he tried to demonstrate readiness to help them. By placing lightly a hand onto Erik's, he silently enforced eye-contact which emphasized his wish to do more for Cecilia; to be no burden for her friends. But her 'brother' shook smiling the head. “It's okay, let it be for now. Recover at first your own reserves.” the man assured him softly.  
This made the dragon look bewildered at the Hyur; not putting the useless hand in the air down. What kind of tune was that, suddenly...?! It was not the pretended direful friendliness from before... It was real kindness – something too foreign considering the gruff Warrior.  
“Come, we take the two of you to my father's manor.” Haurchefant stated gentle and offered Midgardsormr support for climbing down the airship. Touching mortals had never been a problem, but feeling their grip was still an agonizing occurrence... Even if just the expectation to sense pain loomed over his head... Reminding himself, what he was now – what Hydaelyn had turned him into, there was yet no possibility to deny the knight's open hand.  
When their feet touched the stony floor, Midgardsormr heard something. A familiar noise; children. The ones who had helped Cecilia to find him days ago. It was a clear coincidence that they were playing under the gazes of their parents not far away from the airport, but still they were here. Noticing the maiden on the stretcher instantly.  
The girl with her long hazelnut-brown hair ran immediately to the small group.  
“Oh no, what happened to Ceci?!” she called with that noisy, high-pitched voice. Her brother appeared right behind her: “Is Ceci sick?! Got she injured?!” Like an incarnation of pure patience, Cid explained calmly with fatherly tunes: “It's so: Ceci was hurt when she helped out at Steel Vigil. Yet, a doctor of Camp Dragonhead took already care of her. Do not worry, kids.”  
The siblings looked a bit anxiously at Haurchefant, whose face had become gloomy in the second the engineer was telling them the rough story. But as the personal hero of the poor and homeless, the knight was quickly regaining his positive, almost shining mood: “Little ones, we're bringing her now to Fortemps' villa. With the best medical care, I'm pretty sure that Ceci is soon recovering from the accident.” “So, she'll be alright?” the boy asked hopeful.  
Nodding, the Elezen knelt down next to the two Hyur. “I'm sure she will one day play again with you two rascals, yes. But in the meantime you must truly be good children and do well-behaved your homework instead of annoying your parents. Are you understanding this?” the knight said with a mischievous expression. Smiling, the children nodded in agreement.  
Their parents came also slowly to the group.  
Midgardsormr recognized their faces – the maiden as an Astrologian had helped these citizens several times out. As he contemplated when both adults embraced comforting their offspring, it was undeniable how much the view of an unconscious, as-white-as-a-sheet archmage troubled them. Pity and worry were written in their miens. The couple offered following to help, but – of course – Erik didn't accept: “I prefer carrying my personal sister with my very own two hands, thank you. Walk by our sides, if you really want to support us.”  
Although the words were polite, Midgardsormr clearly noticed the absent gentleness. The soft pitch which the Marauder had given him before wasn't present. Hence, had Erik just manipulated him? For having less stress? Or was he simply not interested into exhibiting some positive sentiments after the other two men had already cheered the children up...?  
However, the family with their striking hazelnut-brown hair accompanied the group indeed.  
Passing the Astrology-guild, suddenly the small girl stared at Midgardsormr. Albeit he walked next to Erik, it seemed he was still drawing attention... Impossible to figure out, though, how he could even be a matter of interest... Why an adventurer with this specific charisma shouldn't overshadow an ordinary mortal corpus. At least Midgardsormr didn't find this disguising shape here noticeable. It had a normal skin-tone, as much as he could tell. Wasn't unnatural large. He might not know hair- or eye-color, but as long as his irises were not filled with rage... Ergo a crimson glow which even Her grace seemed unable to take from him, there was no reason to be worried.  
This disguise didn't reveal, what he truly was.  
Yet, these childish eyes lay never-ending on him. Curious; sort of disturbing...  
“Would you please stop studying this handsome man? You are embarrassing us!” the girl's mother told her in a hushed manner. “But he is so silent! Just like a ghost! And he looks so stiff as if he was walking on a minefield.” the little one noticed muted. “Where are your manners? He's one of Cecilia's friends! Be more respectful.” ,the woman scolded, “If all of us would be so rude like you, the Warriors of Light would surely never again enter Ishgard!”  
Haurchefant laughed lighthearted and shook his head: “I'm sorry for overhearing your conversation, but... I doubt my friends would leave just because of a little bit curiosity. Especially not when it comes from a child. They would tell you instantly, if something bothers them, so don't worry.”  
“At least this counts for me.” ,Erik added grinning, “If any should insult me, eating impolite kids for lunch is a hobby of mine.” The Marauder chuckled when both siblings ripped their eyes open. Complaining about his ill-humored joke, the girl pointed at him plus waved her hand.  
Midgardsormr felt a tiny smile crack over his mouth.  
They were humans just like the others, but their innocence was delightful. To be honest, he had always been glad to see the maiden interact with children in general. Not because of the illusions in his sleep how her younger self might be, but for the joy the Au Ra felt when she cared for them.  
Recalling her happiness made a stronger, yet sad smile flit over his mien. He remembered to have adored new beings of all kinds long before mortals betrayed his species... Meeting Cecilia back then would have changed so much... If she would just have been born a few centuries earlier...  
They reached Fortemps' manor as the snow fell stronger from the sky.  
“We will head home now.” ,the children's father stated, “Hopefully Lady Cecilia will recover soon.” “But Papa, can't we see if the employers will really take good care of Ceci?” the boy asked worried. His mother shook instantly her head: “Don't be ridiculous! We cannot waltz into a royal building without allowance. The guards would throw us out.” Scratching his nose, the father added: “Although we know the brave Haurchefant here very well, there's no need to over-strain our rights. It isn't necessary to risk our knight's good reputation for a bagatelle.”  
Mentioned gentleman coughed a little, before he gave his best to interfere: “Let me try to convince my father before you give immediately up. At least for the children, I'm sure the Count wouldn't mind a short moment of their presence even without a matching status of your family.”  
Smiling gloomily, the parents looked down to the ground. “We are just mere citizens. Thanks to Halone's blessing we weren't born into the poorest families, but still there exists nothing which justifies our visit. Other, than the Warriors of Light, we have never hold a weapon in our hands or helped Coerthas out in another important way. With that, our children must understand which rights they have and which not.” the man said full of devotion.  
The couple led the children away, who were helplessly staring at their cherished Raen-heroine while they still had to move forward. “Take care of her, please!” the girl called desperate; gazing directly at Midgardsormr as if she could feel how much he was connected to the maiden. Unintended sorrow glided over his facial expression; he nodded guilty in the last moment the child glanced at him.  
How idiotic it was to experience pity... As an ancient creature who should see her as an ordinary ant underneath his talons... But he couldn't help it. Imagining he would be separated from Cecilia just like this made his heart ache, so the child's pain appeared familiar to him.

Haurchefant meanwhile sighed frustrated as he opened the manor's door.  
“That's because they were treated ill by the Dzemael. A few years ago, a member of the poor family was accused of stepping over his rightful frontier. Or should I say, of thievery?” Letting Cid and Erik walk into the entrance-hall, the Elezen continued: “When the father's brother worked as a cook for Count Dzemael, one evening he dared to keep the dinner's leftovers for himself instead of tossing them away as they were so many. Above this, the employer brought mentioned food home – of course his family ate everything up.”  
“And somebody didn't like that.” Cid guessed while Midgardsormr stepped with hesitant motions into the building. “Of course not.” ,the Elezen replied, “Some knights were against this action, because they thought it wasn't the cook's right to take any of the meals. Not to forget, how 'egoistic' he was to give it to simple citizens. Unimportant they were his family. With lots of overreacting, these swordsmen urged the Count to punish the 'thief'. And even though the servant was only fired, everything changed. The family no longer dares to seek contact with those living in royal houses. Hadn't I been friends with them already, I wouldn't be the only exception.”  
Walking behind the others, Midgardsormr gulped nervously to hear this. With that humanely shape, the tiniest mistake could also turn him into the victim of mortal's twisted morale. Surely he knew Count Fortemps was a fair man, but in case the lord wouldn't give him shelter in Ishgard... Probably, it was better to leave the Holy City as soon as possible. The thought alone let his heart clench painfully, but as long as the maiden was safe, nothing else mattered.  
It wasn't Edmont alone who waited for the group's return.  
Apart from the other Warriors, of course Alphinaud and Tataru were there.  
But also – to Midgardsormr's wonderment – crabber Estinien and Sir Aymeric stood in the large, luxurious reception-chamber. While the Azure Dragoon was famous for normally avoiding aristocratic associations, the Lord Commander of the Temple-knights was well-known for acting uncomfortable around the Raen; around her species in general. Yet, both were here...  
All seemed horrified to see the unconscious Au Ra, but Alphinaud alone could let go of the shock. Or rather, he was the one who jumped headfirst into open desperation. Walking quick as a flash to the stretcher's right side, his words bubbled eagerly out of his mouth: “How much is she injured?! Will she recover or won't all damage heal?! Please tell me! I must know it...!” Many tears appeared in the dark Sapphire-eyes; the voice almost not able to finish his plea.  
Surprisingly, it was the Azure Knight who held the teenager back before he could uncontrollably grab Cid's jacket. As if Alphinaud weighed nothing, a single hand in his collar sufficed to stop him. “Stay calm!” ,Estinien ordered with a muted, yet harsh sound alias snarl, “Let them at first carry her to the guest-room. Then, there's enough time for talking.”  
Erik nodded and added: “Haurchefant, you can explain the situation. Cid and I are right back after we put her into bed.” A female doctor who stood unnoticeable in the right corner stepped forward: “If the gentlemen would follow me, please. I will show you the way. And check her condition.”  
Midgardsormr stayed by Haurchefant's side as the later explained everything.  
Although he would have preferred going with the other two, he knew it wasn't his right.  
Still... He yearned for being in Cecilia's near... Also, his mental reserves were at their limits – he had experienced today already too much direct contact with mortals. Their eyes on him were unsettling; their silent question who he might be stung into his brain. When Haurchefant finally explicated, that the unobtrusive adventurer next to him had saved Cecilia's life, fullest attention of all these mortals was nearly choking the Methuselah to death.  
“I didn't allow you to embarrass Midge. Nor you all to stare at him.” Erik's earnest reproof saved the over-strained dragon. As the Marauder and Cid came back into the room, Count Edmont apologized politely: “I am sorry for making your friend feel uncomfortable. It was not our intention to do anything inappropriate. But he seems very devastated – and his mind is obviously distracted. As if he was more concerned about your personal sister than even yourself are.”  
Midgardsormr wished to defend the Warrior's leader, but was unable to do so. He couldn't handle this mortal existence he was caged into with so many people around him. Erik knew this, obviously, and decided for an offensive way of dealing with the trouble.  
“Of course Ceci's and my friend is concerned! Who wouldn't in his situation?” ,the Hyur continued the specific lie, “He was head over heels yesterday and is just one day later forced to fear she might never wake up again! Could you try to imagine how hard it was for this shy soul to tell my sister, that he had fallen in love with her?”  
Erik's comrades made big eyes. Even the quiet Blackmage looked like a surprised puppy. And while the three more or less noble Elezen of Ishgard as well as the young scholar demonstrated irritation, Tataru beamed like the sun: “Ceci has now a boyfriend? Really?! Oh, that's wonderful! Grandiose! If Minfilia was with us, she would be so happy to hear this! You must tell us more!”  
Nodding, the Warrior emphasized the faked situation: “We had befriended Midge a long while ago due to his preferences as adventurer – and us bumping quite often into him. Luckily he wasn't misinterpreting these encounters as stalking... Well, got to spend lots of time when we weren't yet thorns in Lolorito's eyes. Maybe you remember all these gathering-trips she and me undertook. Back then, it was very exhausting to behold Ceci's and Midge's interactions as he grew fond of her. I tell you: He's a fraidy-cat when he has to confess something.”  
Tammy's tail became puffy: “Hey, no kitty-jokes allowed! Besides, why 'exhausting'? It's romantic when a man doesn't go bluntly to a woman and asks her to be his date.” “Yes, it's very sweet when someone thinks about how to ask the question. Men shouldn't be so rude all the time.” Annika said and glanced angered at Carlos. The later ignored her complaint. “I fear we come from completely different planets.” distinct disappointment escaped Bertram's mouth.  
A slight grin appeared in Erik's mien: “Probably this 'sweetness' is why she accepted him yesterday to be her property when he finally came out of his shell... Whatever, it's mere chance I'm the first who was honored to know about them. Ceci had wanted to spread the news when we would return this evening.” “And just when everything seems to be fine, fate must be cruel and send of all things heretics to destroy their joy. That's truly a misery.” the Count noticed sympathetic.  
Right on cue, the brows of the gruff Marauder went up.  
“I hope this means Ishgard won't kick him out.” “Of course not, Erik!” ,Edmont responded quickly, “Your friend alias Cecilia's partner enjoys the same rights as you all do. I will officially make him another protégé of mine.” “That's great!” Tammy and Annika chirped happily, while the others smiled good-humored about the Count's decision.  
The mortals seemed – without doubt – to be convinced of 'Midge' being Cecilia's boyfriend...  
Pleased by the outcome, Erik gaped at the disguised dragon. Albeit the later was indeed grateful for this morale-support, it was hardly brightening his mood. He was paralyzed by all the emotions flowing through him – plus the helplessness to be incapable of acting like a normal human. Furthermore, with the three curious females approaching him, the stress became unbearable.  
Panic whirling wildly, Midgardsormr was on the verge of passing out.  
“Count, we must ask a question.” the thoughtful Blackmage said.  
Unknowingly saving the Methuselah, Carlos distracted the women by the hint of a specific problem. Annika turned her attention immediately to Edmont: “That is correct... My Lord, may it be alright when we occupy one of your guestrooms for a longer while? We might have asked for today, but...” “...as you learned right before, my sister will perhaps not recover as fast as her body. In worst case, recreation could take forever. Thus, I need to personally beg you for sanctuary, even if we do expect too much from our benefactor.” the Marauder finished.  
Folding their hands, Tammy and Tataru stared with puppy-eyes at Lord Fortemps.  
Everybody else gazed also at him. Expectation written on their faces, but a negative one.  
Crestfallen, the Count examined his guests: “Your question is unbelievable... Tell me, how bad do the other city-states treat adventurers, that you fear I would deny you such a little favor? Have they ever let you down, that you expect me to say 'No.'...? I can't allow you to bring Cecilia to a place with less comfort while her health even prevents her awakening! If you had wanted to bring her to your beloved tavern, to be more clear, I would have insisted on her stay at my home!”  
The little outburst was quite irritating, but the mortals reacted fast with relief.  
Midgardsormr had trouble to handle such an odd 'Yes.', on the other hand...  
Another important resident shared this opinion. Aymeric explained: “Indeed, we cannot allow that one of Ishgard's heroes rests in cold rooms under thin blankets. There's not much we can do in order to change the city's ways in a larger extent, but at least we can help our friends when they need us. In case the Count would have refused, we Temple Knights had granted her shelter.”  
Looking at each other, Erik and Carlos seemed to be undecided what to think of these words. Estinien, however, demonstrated a sharp tongue as always: “Your respect for her is a bit suspicious. Are you sure to care for the situation not because you're afraid of Cec?” Shoulders visibly stiffening under the armor-plates, the Lord Commander answered: “I... admit her scales do unsettle me, yes... But Lady Cecilia is just like our other heroes a bright view to behold.”  
This didn't convince the Azure Knight, whose arms folded in clear disbelief.  
“If all adventurers are like her willing to shield foreign nations without obtaining any benefits...” ,Aymeric said hastily, “...we must open our city as well as hearts for them! No matter, which species they may belong to. Also, Haurchefant told me every single story of her selfless actions in Coerthas. I can't be afraid of somebody who shows so much unconditional devotion and love for others. Rather, I don't know how to handle the admiration she causes me to feel.”  
“I... know the feeling just too well...”  
Everybody except for Erik stared surprised at Midgardsormr.  
The dreamy smile on his lips died down while he noticed that he had spoken the very first words next to all these mortals. His heartbeat became too fast, while so many eyes studied him perplexed. It was a relief when the fatherly Roegadyn started laughing: “Buahaha, oh man, just look at him! Dang, Erik, your friend turns red like a cherry! Aymeric's speech must really have carried him away, when he could overcome his shyness briefly.” Coming to the dragon and patting his shoulder gently, Bertram continued: “Don't worry, buddy. We're nicer than our boss, so if you get along with him, you're surely soon warming up to the rest of us. Don't stress yourself meanwhile.”  
Letting a Paladin touch him was similar to taking bitter medicine...  
But he got quickly distracted: The female doctor from before appeared in the room.  
With a discreet pitch in the voice, this Hyur said: “I overlooked Mademoiselle Shirone's injuries and renewed the care my colleague had given her. If you please, you can visit her for a short moment. Yet, she needs still lots of rest and quiet.”  
When she wanted to leave, Aymeric called hastily: “Wait one minute, please.” With raised brows, the woman asked: “Yes, Lord Commander?” Looking for a moment at 'Midge', the Elezen cleared his throat and explained: “This gentleman is the Lady's legitimate partner. Does her state of health at least allow his presence whenever he wants to be in her near? I am sure he wouldn't disturb her while she still has to recover.” Skeptical, the doctor eyeballed the disguised dragon. “If he doesn't make any noise, I do not forbid his unconditional attendance. But he must behave well or otherwise I will strip him of the visiting-rights.”  
Dear doctor's antipathy didn't only cause 'Midge' to jerk. It also provoked his 'comrades' or rather self-proclaimed 'friends'. “Of course he will act quietly in her near!” the Fortemps-knight protested. Cid added nonchalant: “He doesn't even seem like a talkative guy, Miss. It's pointless to strengthen the pressure on his shoulders. If anything, we cause trouble in your eyes before he would.”  
“This bundle of worry looks like he wouldn't even dare to breath if it was a nuisance in our eyes.” ,the Azure Knight noticed, “He's probably afraid of every possible misstep.” Midgardsormr jerked as these harsh words fell down. Such unabashed, correct analysis... Unnatural for blunted fighters... Only a short look into the Dragoon's grey-blue irises was enough to make him instantly avoid further eye-contact. This blue metal frightened him – due to his helplessness in this body. After all... Estinien would surely destroy him in case he could see through the disguise...  
“Please excuse him, Midge.” ,Aymeric said with a stern side-glance at his old friend, “I suppose, that our mightiest knight loses his little manners completely when something makes him worried.” The Azure Dragoon wanted to remonstrate, but the words didn't leave his opened mouth. Grumbling, Estinien crossed the arms and looked away. The Lord Commander, on the other hand, came to Midgardsormr's side and suggested: “Let's go to your partner. I promise we others will just stay for a short moment, so you may not fear the doctor's ban.”  
Aymeric bestowed a friendly smile upon the disguised Methuselah.  
Studying the tender facial features, the dragon understood why Erik had seemingly been close to that Elezen in his former world... He was an open book. A noble man with formidable manners plus a gentle heart; somebody who truly had earned his status in mortal's hierarchy in Ishgard. Although... There was something overshadowing this good man.  
His familiar background made the Commander's life obviously more troublesome than even Haurchefant's roots could ever do. A while ago, Midgardsormr had at least heard from the Warriors, that Aymeric suffered under being the unofficial son of Archbishop alias Pope Thordan...  
“Can I show you the way?” the dark-haired knight asked politely.  
The ancient being looked doubtfully into these eyes which had even a stronger color than the blue of Haurchefant's irises. With an anxious, yet decided feeling in his chest the Methuselah nodded. Forcing himself to vocalize what he needed deep down: “Please bring me to her...”  
The Elezen smiled knowingly: “Of course---” “Hey Aymeric, should not I be the one who asks him such question? It's still my father's house.” Haurchefant complained rather half-hearted. At first, both swordsmen raised skeptical their brows – just in order to chuckle a little. In the next second, they broke out laughing; demonstrating amused their long-lasting friendship.  
Afterwards, the elves decided to lead 'Midge' and the others together.

So much attention... Too much attention...  
Following both knights into the corridor, his nerves were rebelling...  
Midgardsormr didn't like it how everyone wanted him to walk in front of them. To not leave their field of vision. Like a wild animal in bright spotlight. Thus, he struggled to go more or less ahead... If it had been his choice, he would prefer to be the last one – just as Estinien. But Haurchefant plus Aymeric gave him open patience, so he pushed himself to match their humanely expectations. Walking almost between both, he made sure to keep up with their steps.  
Since he was busy with focusing on his impression in the mortal's eyes, he hardly payed tribute to the luxurious mansion. But while muted, female 'Aahs' and 'Oohs' behind him spoke about Tammy's and Tataru's fascination for some paintings on the walls, the dragon knew even fullest concentration would rather not change anything... He was blind for any art as long as his heart was suffocating...  
After a short while both Lord Commander and knight stopped abruptly.  
“Here... This is the room.” the Fortemps-son said, while Aymeric gently paused 'Midge's' movement via a hand on his left shoulder. Apart from the unwanted contact, it was mortifying, that a human had to prevent him from reflexive-proceeding. But Haurchefant opened already the door, wherefore discontent about the moment had to wait. “I had really hoped she would accept father's offering, because this guestroom would have surely appealed to her.” the man explained meekly with a smile. Then, he signaled with a slight bow that 'Midge' should enter first.  
Hesitantly, the disguised dragon stepped into the room.  
Cecilia slept in a large bed on the left side, which stood rather close to the door's opposing wall.  
Her bedding was wine-red; the furniture's wood ebony. Next to this sleeping-berth, a small desk with some books plus a flower-vase stood in the corner. Beside that diminutive shelf had a wide, dark-red armchair been placed, so a person sitting in it would have the window in his alias her back in favor of looking at the king-size mattress.  
The chimney on the right side kept the chamber warm; no miracle due to the luxurious architecture. In fact, all cupboards full with a variation of literature as well as the wardrobe and the round table within this room looked expensive. But Midgardsormr knew he cared for them only because he was so aware of the maiden's preferences. How she cherished every good text-selection and thought that big desks were practical for her various handcrafts.  
Thinking about his precious being was too much. He could barely control the pull any longer...  
In the warm shine of several porcelain-lamps along the walls, the Methuselah approached the large bed soundless. He stopped next to her face; eyeballed every single detail in order to tell, if at least her body was fine. While the majority of mortals came also closer, their presence unsettled him noticeable less than before, as Midgardsormr was too relieved about the returned color of her lips. The rosy petals reflected the light in their usual manner.  
Even though... her skin was yet a bit pale. Not anymore like a corpse, but definitely not yet okay. For the specific Au Ra feature... He wished to touch her scales. Only by looking at them, he wasn't able to tell for sure, if they were again smooth and stable. But he didn't have the courage to do it. Touching the maiden in any way seemed impossible as long as all these humans were here...  
He could also not dive into his desperation under so many eyes...  
Alphinaud dared to come to Midgardsormr's right side.  
Since the boy was so focused on Cecilia, he surely didn't notice the tiny red glow coming from 'Midge's' irises. For a short moment, the dragon glanced angered at the teenager, before he realized how inappropriate this reaction was. Even if this young Elezen was a foolish mortal as well as in some way a rival, he showed always suavity and consideration towards others. Rebuking himself, the Methuselah answered when Alphinaud looked up to him. Concern dwelled in the dark-blue eyes which recognized Midgardsormr as just another human. Within them, there wasn't this positive, distinct wonderment the boy had given the puppet. Yet, something else could be found now.  
“I am so glad you were there to save her. Thank you...” the young Elezen whispered.  
Irritated, Midgardsormr watched as this child bowed deeply down. What an over-exaggerated, nonsensical gesture... Thanks to his clear displeasure, 'Midge' obviously confused Alphinaud when the later returned to a more comfortable position. Nervously, the boy asked: “Did I offend you?” Brows furrowed, the ancient being beheld a far too sensitive reaction of the teenager: Several drops alongside the narrowed lids which tried to hide the Sapphire-irises.  
“Sentimental kid...” the sharp-tongued Dragoon commented from the room's entrance, where he leaned against the door. Count Edmont next to him gave the Elezen a warning glance; Aymeric, Haurchefant and Cid shook their heads. The Warriors – except for Carlos who harrumphed – ignored the statement and rather gazed curious at Midgardsormr.  
Cheering a mortal up wasn't the Methuselah's strength. He had even failed a few times when it was for the precious maiden. But however, he should do now something in order to not act suspicious. As good as possible, he tried to mimic Cecilia's gentle behavior towards the boy: “No need to worry about me. Considering myself, everything is fine. I am just struggling with her state of health. Never before was she injured in such a life-threatening way while I was spending time with her... It's still unbelievable to imagine she will not wake up soon.”  
He forced himself to smile a little for calming Alphinaud's anxiety better.  
The boy answered the gesture, albeit for a short moment he pushed the present drops out of his eye. Meanwhile, Bertram patted once more Midgardsormr's shoulder. “I see why Ceci likes you. Comforting others is a talent you two have in common.” “Only difference is your shyness. But I bet we can do something about it.” a smirking Tammy added next to the Roegadyn.  
The other adventurers including Tataru and Cid were also close to him, but somehow it felt natural. As long as the dragon could see his cherished girl, her friends were the lesser evil in this mansion. Erik seemed to grasp him, because the Marauder said into his mind: 'Sooner or later it will be better. Even without a chosen one in your near, it'll be easier. Having people around yourself won't be stressful forever. You may differ in case of your shape, but... otherwise you're like my old geezer. He got used to all of them – and so will you.'  
Midgardsormr gaped at the Hyur.  
Just as everybody else, Erik was busy with watching the maiden. Therefore, the Methuselah allowed these telepathic words have their effect on him. Albeit he was only grudgingly accepting the Warrior's care, somehow it was no longer something to detest.  
Rather, it was a sad circumstance. Sentimental matter...  
Almost longingly, he studied the man who had been the chosen mortal of another Midgardsormr. There existed once a reason for preferring this Hyur over all the other humans... A good reason... But it couldn't be helped... When Midgardsormr looked again straight ahead, the bare view of Cecilia's face was enough to convince him, that she was the one who he sought to protect.  
“Don't overdo it.” ,Estinien admonished the adventurers, “If you stay for too long, the doctor won't appreciate it. Say all goodbye to Cec and then we leave.” While the majority of mortals just did as the Azure Knight had recommended, Carlos grumbled: “Since when is this nuisance of a cousin caring for any manners? Don't tell me, that you really want to help Midge with sticking to the terms. You aren't so selfless.” The Blackmage waltzed in a threatening way to the disdainful Dragoon. Watching them, Annika whispered: “Oh-oh... This again...”  
“It's unimportant if I care for him or not.” ,the Azure Knight replied snippy, “As long as Cec needs from time to time any medical treatment, none of you should mess around with Ishgard's doctors. She is no ordinary casualty who you could cure by yourself with a finger-snip.” The Lalafell-healer inhaled the air in order to protest, but Carlos was faster: “As if you bigmouth are even able to cast the tiniest spell. Your talent for magic is just as bright as my black hair.”  
Passing his grand-cousin, the Blackmage seemed to be self-satisfied.  
“You mean: Just as bright as your talent for the lance.” abruptly the Dragoon stated poisonous. Carlos turned grumbling around and glared enraged at the full-armored Elezen. The later responded with the same expression, that was despite the helmet on his head noticeable. They were both angry. “Dare to say that again.” the Blackmage hissed unfriendly. “Sure. Just as bright as---”  
“Could you two please stop this?” Aymeric asked crestfallen; interrupting both relatives. Haurchefant nodded: “If you really want to argue, do that outdoors on the street.” “How about that? I'll bring them to the Vanu. Maybe Bismarck can cool their heads a little bit off. And I bet the whale loves tasty company to bits.” Cid added with a wolfish grin.  
Count Fortemps sighed: “Let's all just leave Midge alone, so that he has no need to be worried...” The Warriors, two scions and the engineer nodded, while the Lord Commander and Edmont's son were already stepping out of the chamber. Erik, though, was the only adventurer who didn't instantly follow the advice afterwards. He paused his foot right in the moment he lifted it up. Additional, he strained the jaw visibly as his eyes searched for 'Midge'. “I'm later checking on you. So don't think I let you down.” the Hyur emphasized with a serious expression.  
“Wow, do you want to cheer him up or to scare him to death?” Tammy asked arms akimbo plus head-shaking while the mortals waited in the corridor for their odd leader. Erik rolled his eyes: “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, sun-worshiper.”  
The Marauder slightly rubbed 'Midge's' shoulder before catching up with the others; a distinct worry in the hard steel-eyes when he looked one last time at the camouflaged dragon.

The door closed without any sound.  
Shivering, Midgardsormr inhaled following the warm air deeply.  
He wasn't good at this... He was miserable in interacting with humans. And to think, that a doctor had to care now and then for the maiden's condition, made things surely not easier in any aspect... Nervousness emerged just by mere imagining... But well... At least for now...  
His fingertips sought cautiously for the scales on Cecilia's neck.  
Closing the lids, the Methuselah was unspeakable calmed to feel their usual softness and flexibility. Even with so much guilt and panic swirling within his consciousness, this little sign of life was taking a burden from the stiff shoulders.  
His lungs let the breath escape for a long moment; his head tilted a bit backwards due to his relief. There was more than just her recovering scales... Meaningful... She was developing again warmth... Her own warmth... This specific heat he had grown to adore with every cell of his former, vulnerable disguise which had sought her near countless times.  
Looking fondly at the sleeping beauty, he wondered, if his new shape would ever be able to stand the cold. After all, it was just some shell formed like a Hyur. No comparison to this generous Au Ra. He doubted, that his current vessel – made by Hydaelyn in her weakest state – would ever be able to face obstacles like Cecilia did. Especially thanks to his handicap. As long as he was just minimal controlling this shape, his clumsiness was troublesome...  
Sighing, he stepped away from the bed. He could hear steps echoing through the corridor. Thus, Midgardsormr sat down onto one of the wooden chairs around the desk. His intuition told him, that standing in the way should better be avoided...  
In the very next moment, the doctor entered the chamber.  
She payed not much attention to the dragon, though. Her eyes examined him for several seconds, yet her interest switched fast to her current 'fosterling'. The physician checked the maiden's pulse and administered a pill; changed carefully the patient's position on the mattress for preventing pressure-marks and let a bit healing energy flow through Cecilia's corpus.  
When everything seemed to be done, the doctor walked to the exit.  
But before her hand pressed the knob down: “You can take a seat in the armchair next to the bed. It's okay when you're close to your girlfriend. My work isn't affected by this.” “I thank thee...” Midgardsormr responded irritated. “No need for this.” ,the Hyur replied down-to-earth, “I just do, what I have to. It's so: Even, when they are unconscious, it is proven that patients recover better when their loved ones are present. Albeit nobody can tell for now, if Mademoiselle Shirone will ever wake up again, it is still not absurd to rely on this old fact.”  
Listening to these words made his heart gain speed.  
Trying to control an impulsive quake which ran down his spine, the Methuselah asked: “Is there... truly no possibility to tell, how intense the inner injuries were for her system...? For her... mind...?” The doctor stepped purposeful out of the room, but nevertheless answered: “The aftereffects can hardly be debated by now. It needs time for her corpus to recreate, yet the damage on her brain could even take eternities. That is, of course, IF they will heal. We can't get Mademoiselle Shirone out of the coma no matter how good our medical knowledge is.”  
With that, the woman let him alone.  
If he wouldn't have been sitting on a chair already, his legs would have caved in this second.  
It was irrelevant, that he already knew... Whenever someone mentioned the word 'coma', the feeling was as if a large abyss opened right under the Methuselah's feet – ready to let him fall. To let him tumble into a darkness far beyond his horizon. His mental instability was pulling at his very core...  
Despite shaking stilts, he stood up and went to mentioned dark-red armchair.  
His eyes were focusing on the maiden, while he sank into the bolster. Apart from his militant panic, doubt was gripping into his mind... Probably, the maiden didn't need anybody in her near to recover – in the unlikely case her fate meant survival. But he was not such stubborn creature who believed without skepticism into a self-chosen path. He wore an old stigma deep down in his heart. A scar... that spoke of his helplessness to honestly trust any other humane being than her.  
If Cecilia wouldn't be in his near...  
Whimpering, he knew that it was most likely for him to run amok. She alone kept his anxiety and sightless wrath in check. Because he had placed more hope into her than he had even realized. Losing the maiden would mean to lose his last purpose in this world, so he would irrationally fight against acknowledging her death. Pure egoism, probably, but with all misdeeds in Eorzea as well as the tragic history of his family, a walking corpse like him possessed no reason to stay faithful without a real incentive... Without such a thing, he would probably join his raging son...  
Leaning backwards, Midgardsormr rubbed through his wet, burning eyes.  
It couldn't be helped... There was nothing he could do for her.  
Nothing but staying by her side and praying...

The last sun-rays were gone.  
With a blurry vision, he moved his neck a little.  
All the time 'Midge' hardly dared to do anything... Apart from breathing and batting his eyelashes, the dragon sat mostly as motionless as a statue. His vessel, though, protested via aching muscles and an ill feeling in its stomach. But he wouldn't give in...  
The Methuselah refused to abandon this position. Did not intend to do anything which would take his concentration away from the precious maiden. It was his duty to be here... On a personal level, he owed her the loyalty – since he was taking advantage of the maiden since second zero... Perhaps, rather indeed he hadn't willingly woken up from his deadly slumber when she came to him, but... She had been his excuse to see the current state of Eorzea's situation.  
Cecilia didn't need him, but he – all the more – was in her debt.  
“Your dejectedness is screaming to the sky...” a harsh voice stated suddenly from the other side of the room's door. Midgardsormr winced appalled when Erik stepped uninvited into the chamber. “Thou hast no manners...” the dragon grumbled after he had recovered from the negative surprise. The Warrior's leader shrugged and replied: “I told you that I'm later coming back. Forgetful gramps. Now is a good time for visiting, don't you think?”  
Walking to the mattress, Erik placed gently a hand on Cecilia's head.  
The steel didn't look away from her when the Hyur mumbled: “Just to assure you, good grandsire... I am not nonstop reading your mind. That I can recognize your negative thoughts is only because your other version was so close to me.” Moving his aching shoulders slowly in little circles, Midgardsormr wasn't convinced: “How am I supposed to tell this... In this shape, I do suffer under several problems. Like a lesser scenting ability, for example... enervated vision... My faith into natural abilities--- simply into everything is smaller than ever before...”  
Snorting, Erik shook his head a few times.  
“Man, you really are a stupid geezer... That my sweet sister here holds you so dear would sound like a bad joke if I didn't know it any better. With her by your side, you make A LOT more progress than my Midgard ever did, but what do you do...? You are still complaining. Have still the nerve to search for excuses to distrust people...” the gruff man complained.  
Looking directly at the bristling ancient being, he continued: “I understand it. Your mind is restless. The whole situation is over-straining for you. I comprehend that all these different impulses of both body and brain must be tearing at your sanity. You pull yourself together, yet the whole pressure is nevertheless breaking you apart.”  
Inhaling, the brunette man added: “But...! Midgard, you are now a human. No doubt. And as such, you have to eat sometimes a little bit to stay healthy. I don't care, if you refuse. For Ceci, at least, take care of your digestive-tract!”  
The Methuselah furrowed the brows. “What has eating to do with that?” he wondered confused. Harrumphing, Erik hit his forehead with the left palm and grumbled. “I'd cut you with my axe if you would stay currently in your real shape, gramps... We 'awful mortal beings' are no big dragons who can starve for many days without any disadvantages. So, in case that you feel like vomiting: Bravo, it's because of your empty stomach.”  
Midgardsormr narrowed the lids with a low growl in his throat as Erik walked to the armchair. Unfortunately, the Hyur didn't flinch: “It's odd that you still own draconic features... Pay attention, that none of the knights notices. They'll surely turn you into shashlyk. … Now stop this bollocks. Stand up and come with me. I make you something to eat.”  
Gaping at the maiden, the father of dragon-kind hesitated. But it didn't look like he had a choice. “Come on, grandpa.” ,the Marauder pulled him per force onto his feet, “The earlier you cooperate, the earlier you’re back. And it's not only for your stomach, that I insist on this 'annoying nonsense'. You'll see, what I mean.”

Begrudgingly he followed the mannerless Warrior.  
Four guards stood in the entrance-hall; they nodded knowingly and saluted.  
Leaving the villa, Erik led Midgardsormr down to the Foundation. Not passing any other mortals on their way, the evening was lonely and cold. Being unseen by humans should have a calming effect, but it hadn't. In fact, the dragon caged in a mortal shell felt oddly weak compared to before...  
Was it normal for mortal bodies to lose easily strength...? None of his shapes prior to this had ever experienced such trouble in case they needed any nutriment. Not his vulnerable, puppet-like vessel; not his young self before his children even existed; at the most not his fully grown corpus...  
Snow fell in Ishgard's usual pace from the black sky. With that, the scenery resembled a little an abandoned ruin. It was a pity to think, that there were homeless on the streets... Men, who would give their last money or food in order to have for the night a shabby room...  
Pushing the thought away, the Methuselah went right after Erik into the guesthouse.  
“Anything special you want for dinner? I don't accept 'No.' as an answer, to clarify this.” the Hyur urged him to reply. Gazing at the ground in order to avoid the expectant irises, Midgardsormr answered unmotivated: “Maybe a fish would be nice... Something that... Cecilia would like...” Argh... Uttering her name hurt a bit in his chest...  
Shrugging, the gruff man thought loudly: “I hoped to cook something challenging. At least a classic. It's so long ago that I made cutlets solely for you... But well, fine by me. Just afore a short stop in my guestroom before we go into the kitchen. There's something I want to give you.” The dragon was clueless, what Erik had in mind, but in all likelihood it was a nasty issue... As uncomfortable as the company of this awful mortal...  
On the way to Erik's digs, they passed in the corridor a mirror.  
At first Midgardsormr lowered his gaze; determined to avoid the object.  
But then... A single impulsive changed this. So the Methuselah looked hesitantly up. Unwittingly, his eyes widened as they saw a proof for his assumption. This vessel was indeed young – perhaps not much older than the maiden. While its hands as well as missing wrinkles on the face's structure had already been suspicious, the rest of the visible flesh owned indeed a hue plus optic akin to Cecilia's youthful physique. The rather short, tousled hair growing on the Hyur-corpus strengthened the impression of rosy skin-color. It was an opposite scheme; dark-green with highlights. Like hues of several areas in the Black Shroud which let everything reddish shine brighter.  
Despite the sympathetic appearance...  
The ancient being couldn't bring himself to liking his mortal cage. Everything about this humanely, unimpressive disguise was foreign to him. Of course except for its injuries, which had already been his own and were carried over, and additionally... well... these irises... Just as his doll-form before, this corpus possessed dim eyes in red color.  
“Unhappy with your look?” the smirking Marauder mocked him when the Methuselah turned away from the mirror. A tired, frustrated glance was the only answer which Midgardsormr was willing to give the Hyur. Erik, however, demonstrated once more keen talkativeness considering the dragon: “I remember the phrase 'handsome' when that family's mother spoke about you. So, it seems a bit over-exaggerated to sulk now. And – not to offend you – but an old geezer like you wouldn't fit under other circumstances into our group, don't you think?”  
Pah... As if he had 'planned' to join the adventurers...

They reached Erik's digs.  
When the Warrior's leader opened the door, a familiar stench hit Midgardsormr's nose.  
Frowning, he glanced at the Marauder. How could that man live in a chamber that stunk like booze? On the second thought, it was in fact only the wood which was drenched with the bad odor. Stepping into the chamber made that more clear. Although it was surprising, that the whole room was more or less cleaned... Somehow, 'Midge' had expected bottles laying all over the ground, since Cecilia's 'brother' seemed not like the type who cared for a room's mess.  
Looking around, there was yet something which matched a characteristic cliché.  
There leaned a few different axes against a free wall. Swords. Shields. Bows. Even lances.  
For adventurers, it was common to own a collection of weapons. Not only if the humans were good in using them, but also just in case for possible future need. Such as a changed personal preference. Or an enemy that would be better faced with another type than the current exemplar.  
While he wondered about the variety of tools, the Warrior crossed meanwhile through the room. Aforesaid one seemed amused by Midgardsormr's wonderment... Tsk. Some truly disdainful mortal. Of course all of them hardly knew their place, but this one was by far the most ill-bred of their kind who had ever provoked the Methuselah's attention.  
Erik opened a wardrobe. Pulling one of the drawers out, he explained: “Here... You can have them. Don't worry, I never wore any of these. They are unworn. I... Well, I think I never deserved them. And you should own definitely more than just an old cloak and a pair of Maple Pattens.” Slightly, he grinned when he mentioned the sparsely items Midgardsormr possessed.  
But the mischievous joy didn't last. When he carried a few clothes over to the bed, it looked as if... the mortal was holding treasures in his hands which made him reverential. He placed them carefully onto the mattress; handled the pieces of fabric like something breakable... Midgardsormr tried to comprehend possible motives for that, but couldn't see anything which justified the wariness.  
“Have you tried crying? Let some emotions out?” Erik asked suddenly.  
Irritated, the Methuselah studied the Marauder. A sad smile flitted over the later's lips: “Never mind. I should let you alone while you change clothes. There are some potatoes I have to peel.” Resigned, the dragon caged in a mortal vessel watched as Erik left the room.  
Shyness was nothing he would impute to that man, hence the sudden escape seemed out of place. But he wasn't good in following Erik's train of thoughts. Just because the Hyur could easily look into the dragon-fathers head didn't mean this worked also vice versa.  
Midgardsormr furrowed his brows in depression.  
While he doffed the cloak, the strange questions Erik had asked before echoed through his mind. For which reason should he weep? He had done so while he assumed, that everything was over... But with Hydaelyn's approval of his wish, there was no need for crying. And letting emotions out? Of course he wanted to indulge in his deep sorrow and aboil guilt... But for what should he release these sentiments in any audible way?  
He placed the shoes properly onto the ground; being entirely bared apart from the bandage placed around his chest. This tight object... He gave the white fabric a tug – it was an annoying thing. Albeit he understood the necessity of treating mortal injuries correctly, the Methuselah became ironically impatient when he imagined how long it might take to get rid of this confining item... Dragons weren't made for enduring such man-made healing-processes. HE wasn't made for this...  
'Wrong... I have to adapt my way of thinking... I am now a mortal, too...'  
This realization still hurt his ancient pride.  
Sighing, he took one of the clothes – a dark-brown undershirt – and put it on. When the fabric glided over his facial skin, Midgardsormr inhaled casually. Urgh... It owned a fusty, moldy smell; surely due to the long stay in Erik's wardrobe. But... There was also something clinging to the cloth which wouldn't leave his mind at rest... An aroma he found familiar...  
In the moment his head poked almost out – when his nose ran along the neck-line... The scent was here a bit stronger. Clear enough, that the restricted humane nose could completely decode it... … His eyes became big while the vessel's face emerged. This shirt... This plain object without flaws... HER scent was tied to it... The item had been weaved by the precious Au Ra.  
Midgardsormr petrified. Shivered. His vision started drowning. Tears began to flow over his face. The long stilts caved under his weight, wherefore his trembling torso landed on the mattress. Squinting the eyes, the dragon clawed with both hands into the fabric – realizing, that all clothes which Erik was willing to cede to him must have been created by the maiden. Cecilia...  
'I can't live permanently as a mortal. I can't! Not without you...!'  
He sobbed desperate. Begged silently for her recovery.  
Cried an ocean because his heart fell apart...

Walking with some sniffs through the corridor, he felt strange-to-say better.  
Perhaps that oddity was, what the gruff Hyur had tried to tell him... It was for humans a relief to cry. This – and warm, handmade clothes. Something that kept his fragile body-temperature more stable than a single cloak would do. Casual, he lifted his arm. The sleeve. With it, he wiped his cheeks dry. Breathing simultaneously in, the whole outfit he wore now calmed his restless thoughts because of those discreet remnants... Cecilia's peach-scent.... As if she was indirectly with him.  
He knew she had made them for her 'brother', but nevertheless he felt the love she had weaved into the clothes. It was just as the story Estinien had told him about that stuffed bear... Every emotion, which she put into her creations, resonated forever within the objects...  
Sneaking around the corner, he sighed slightly.  
Ostensible, none of the other mortals was present... A blessing. Of course this thought was mean... But getting used to humane contacts was easier when he started that in a humble rhythm. To jump for the whole day headfirst into cold water had been exhausting... So, Cecilia's self-chosen brother might be a nuisance, but as he knew 'Midge's' secret, he was nevertheless the best choice to develop some trust for. Or at least... something of that kind. Favor, maybe.  
Unsure, Midgardsormr stepped into the kitchen.  
To his relief, there was actually just the gruff man. Although... Wearing Cecilia's craftsmanship under Erik's curious glance felt strange... As if he would commit in some way a crime... Thievery... since he wasn't who was meant to own them... However, the odd Midlander didn't comment verbal on the clothes. Erik was too busy with cleaning a few fishes with a knife. The steel entirely tethered to the flesh which the man still had to cut.  
Inhaling relaxed, Midgardsormr took a seat on a simple stool. Marginal, he noticed a steaming pot which stood on the stove. Was this cook so fast in peeling something? Or had the dragon just wasted so much time? Not, that he could tell for sure... Mortals had a completely different sense for time... But this vessel here was shaped to match their standards, after all...  
“Fried fish and roast-potatoes to your liking?” the gruff Hyur asked while he took two frying pans out of a cupboard. Perplexed, the Methuselah studied him for a short moment, but then got a grip and nodded observable. Erik didn't say anything else as long as he flavored the fish, but afterwards – when he placed the flesh into the heated skillet – an unusual question became audible: “I suppose, you want to sleep at the manor? In Cecilia's room?”  
Blushing embarrassed with wide eyes, Midgardsormr jerked a little.  
“So I'm right.” the Hyur noticed grinning. His obvious complacency--- cattiness was sickening... and made the dragon's irises glow slightly. Anger and bashfulness both fighting against each other. “Do not act conceited.“ ,the Methuselah kept an abashed stutter with a severe tune down, “I have NOT planned to rest in her bed.” Chuckling, Erik responded: “That's nothing I would have expected from you. But I was sure you wouldn't let her alone for the night.”  
Turning his gaze away, the dragon grumbled: “I am not foolish enough to think that I'd deserve sharing the sleeping-berth with the maiden while this here is no unobtrusive puppet. But I can't live with the thought to stay away from her. Albeit a humane existence does not allow me this luxury... since it forces me to partake in mortal routine... At least at night, I still want to be with Cecilia.”  
“Makes sense... You have given her so much faith, that the two of you already surpass what I and my geezer shared. Hence, you are already loyal and feel connected to my sister.” the cook sighed and adjusted the temperature of the fish, before he poured the pot's water out.  
Taking a bowl which stood next to him, the Warrior turned it above the second pan upside-down, wherefore chopped onions and bacon fell onto the warm area. A wonderful odor came from them as they began to fry; making 'Midge's' mouth develop additional saliva. The fish smelled too discreet, but the bacon had a strong aroma...  
After a short while, Erik added the potatoes and several spices.  
When he had stirred everything, the Midlander murmured: “You are surprising me a lot, you know... I was overwhelmed to see, that her life means more to you than your own immortality. But when I think about it, there were so early signs for your trust into Ceci... You allowed her to touch you, while nobody else was plus is granted with this endurance. That you sat on her shoulder was also not pure egoism to have a mortal vehicle. It was also for feeling physical contact to her.”  
Biting into the flesh next to his back-tooth, the dragon avoided the expectant steel. An audible smile of the Warrior followed: “No reason for sulking, Midgard. Otherwise, I as her brother should rather be the one who does so... After all, you told me right before an unbelievable secret... You did sleep... while you were not more than a toy--- a stuffed animal... by HER side.”  
Hissing, the father of dragon-kind eyeballed the Hyur.  
Erik, however, smiled brighter. “I thought you wouldn't ignore your dignity for anyone... There was no day in my world, in which Midgardsormr would have allowed anybody to sleep by his side. Much less to hold him. But seemingly, Ceci is somebody with the power to change a bitter heart.”  
After these words, the annoying man placed the food on a plate.  
“Here, bon appétit.” With that, he served Midgardsormr the simple, yet delicious smelling dinner. Although the ancient being was frustrated, he accepted the fork and knife that Erik offered him.  
“Uhm... Can you use them?” Cecilia's 'brother' wondered curious. Exhaling with a wrinkled nose, the Methuselah answered cynical: “I have seen generations of thy kind. Watched their steps from birth to death. Thou thinkest I have no idea how these tools work? Also, there were plenty of meals thou adventurers hast consumed in my near. I am surely clumsy, but I can hold a knife plus fork. The only thing I have to figure out is how to control these hands precisely.”  
Following, the dragon cut a piece of the fish and put it without trouble into his mouth.  
“Doesn't look like you haven't done it before. This was quite natural... Maybe you have just too little control over your feet.” the Hyur remarked proud. Closing the eyes with a resigned 'Hmpf.', the ancient being took a bite of the roasted potatoes.

Holding his head with the left hand, Midgardsormr felt drained.  
The falling flakes strengthened this sensation with their hypnotic effect...  
Glancing at the Marauder, he asked: “Why did thou find it necessary to escort me?” Erik shrugged and tousled his short brown hair in order to get rid of the snow. “This city is no place for somebody from your kin. And as long as you have to get used to your new body, I think you walk outdoors better not alone around. Especially not at night.” the Hyur explained.  
They reached the villa – greeted the guards with a nod.  
Walking to Cecilia's guestroom, Erik stated: “You will really not consider sleeping in the grand bed? I mean, she is – in terms of the public – your legitimate girlfriend...” Shaking his head exhausted, the dragon replied: “Thy lie does not affect my decision. And as long as I cannot ask Cecilia myself, if she accepts this disgraceful falsehood, I am not even imagining such situation.”  
The Marauder paused all movements.  
Irritated, Midgardsormr turned around and scrutinized that confused expression in the man's mien. But since Erik didn't seem to overcome whatever was petrifying him, the tired dragon didn't posses any motivation for pushing an explanation. Aside from that: The guest-room was right behind him, so nothing would bring him to relinquish the strong need alias magnetism to be finally back.  
But in the moment he pushed the doorknob: “Midgard, what exactly is my sister for you?”  
With an earnest, exhorting side-glance the Methuselah tried to hide his emerging nervousness. Yet, fooling Erik wasn't completely succeeding. “I know you won't call any mortal willingly a friend. But I'm sure you have more sympathy for Ceci left than my geezer had for me. She's your protégé. All I can't figure out here is your true intention. In which way you treat her as something special.”  
Midgardsormr frowned while he studied Cecilia's self-chosen brother.  
Fortunately, he was in no aspect forced to answer, but... Without a response, there wouldn't be rest... Since this 'sibling' was a protective one. If this Hyur got wind of any problems, he called for them before they could surprise him or the persons he shielded. And he would insist on this right as long as the present knowledge he had gotten didn't suffice.  
Dead end...  
Blinking in a twitched motion, the red eyes shone for a moment in discreet light. “A part of me...” ,the dragon shrived, “...wishes for her to be my daughter.” Just a piece of his conflicting sentiments. The only piece which he was clearly able to grasp. But still important enough to get him out of this. To make her 'brother' understand how stressful that ignorant question had been.  
Agony slipped over Erik's expression. Guilt for being insensitive.  
“You adore her so much...” the Warrior's leader marveled full of empathy. The ancient being wasn't in the mood for talking any further about his feelings, hence he nodded only. Not, that a gruff Hyur needed any permission from him to continue... “This makes the circumstance indeed complicated... I shouldn't have make fun of your youthful appearance when you have fatherly feelings for Ceci. Let alone announcing you to be her boyfriend. I'm sorry...” the mortal apologized.  
Shaking his head minimal, Midgardsormr stepped into the dark chamber.  
There existed no reason for this man to feel guilty. All he had done was trying to help a dragon... For everything else, he wasn't in charge. Nothing that went wrong today was his fault.  
“Forbearance doesn't suit dragons.” ,Erik stated gently – reading seemingly again 'Midge's' mind, “But I can't pretend to dislike it. Feels good when for once a wyrm does not want to guzzle me. … You'll be fine by yourself tonight?” “Of course I will.” the Methuselah assured him promptly; refusing to act softly towards the mannerless Ax-bearer. Rejecting to spoil this nuisance.  
Mentioned Marauder gave a little smile: “Okay... See you tomorrow, gramps.”  
When the door was closed behind Erik, Midgardsormr sighed intense.  
Nasty exigency... Socializing. Why must the only second being who knew him in this world own such contrarious traits, that an ancient dragon could hardly decide for whether or not liking him? Under standardized instances, not even the tiniest glance of sweetness would persuade a Methuselah to fall for one as frustrating as this alien mortal. Just because they had been friends in another world didn't make them automatically comrades at this place.  
Gazing at the sleeping maiden who looked even beautiful in the discreet chimney-light, the feeling of tiredness caught him. Made his anger abate. Thus he went slowly to her right side. It felt natural, when he knelt down and placed his arms on the mattress, wherefore he couldn't resist the need to put his head on the folded limbs. Shyly, his right hand touched hers underneath the blanket.  
'Your brother is exhausting...' he thought with a faint smirk on his lips.  
But this weak joy vanished quickly. Once again he realized the unignorable eventuality of death. She might never learn about Erik's specific quirks in case that her coma lasted forever. And only this understanding was enough to open the abyss underneath him.  
Squinting his lids, he stood up. His tremulous hand would crush her fragile fingers if he wouldn't make sure to not touch her meanwhile, so this physical distance was necessary... Partly blinded by burning water, he dragged his feet reluctant to the big armchair. Was the giant hole which threatened to consume him ever going to become smaller...?  
Like a dog would, he convolved as good as feasible on the pad. He couldn't dare to lie by her side... Not with this humane shape. Not even during the urgent need to feel her warmth...


	12. Chapter 12

# Chapter Twelve

Discreet sunbeams woke the disguised dragon up.  
His neck and shoulders hurt... It became worse when he raised his corpus.  
Spending the whole night constricted on an armchair appeared to be nothing that mortal shapes stood all to well... The spine protested while Midgardsormr stretched his limbs. But moving lessened his balefulness a bit – thus helped him, so he continued the gymnastics.  
After his vessel's agony seemed to be eased, the Methuselah turned his attention to the maiden. Calling the feeling 'painful' didn't even begin to describe his complete sentiment; the awareness of her comatose state... He was so used to the Raen's daily rhythm, that it was rootedly disturbing how lifeless she lay on the mattress. Normally, she would already be awake. Busy with whatever might have crossed her mind first.  
Sad irises not leaving Cecilia's face, Midgardsormr knelt down.  
His hands sought hesitantly for her cheeks. Under his cautious fingers, the rosy flesh was warm – the scales flexible. In the natural light, they resembled nacre when he looked so closely at them... Rainbow-colored shimmer on soft white...  
But what truly drew him to Cecilia's countenance were her black eyelashes. Carefully, he touched the tiny hair. Which irony... When Estinien had done so in Dravania, strong jealousy was burning in the dragon's chest. Now, aforesaid moment would have a different outcome. Since the magnetism, which Midgardsormr himself currently felt, made him more emphatic. Made him comprehend the Azure Knight's mesmerization.  
Her odd-colored eyes were out of reach – the windows to her soul closed. Her awareness gone. Therefore, her natural authority hidden behind her joyful personality--- hidden in her sharp gaze couldn't prevent anybody from being close to her.  
This fact was sore temptation... Irresistible... His fingers ran automatically along her closed lids. Even unconscious she was the prettiest mortal who had ever crossed paths with him... Howbeit... Midgardsormr didn't share Estinien's concern towards both crystal and jewel.  
While they were unsettling for the Elezen, the dragon was meanwhile adoring the maiden's irises. He found comfort in the jewel's red which was colored just as his own dim eyes – and he liked its golden border. The crystal's pale blue just as the sea in white-grey light reminded him a lot of his beloved Silvertear Lake; its wisdom a secret he wished to disclose...  
Aah... Bare memory of her personal features dragged his mood deeper into desperation...  
Cautiously leaning his forehead against hers, he prevented drops from gliding over his face with his sheer will. 'I miss you...' the Methuselah thought melancholic. His hands touched once more her cheeks lightly; this time his palms including. The pressure so minor as if one held a newborn. As he began to caress the Raen, his lungs inhaled shivering...  
Without regard to temperature as well as skin-condition, Cecilia's sweetish scent did also not reveal any physical disadvantages. Everything about her was only signaling ordinary deep sleep which all living creatures needed; not something tragic like a coma...  
He closed the eyes when tears threatened to fall down.  
… … …  
The sound of footsteps coming from the corridor made him retire from her.  
Just when he sat uprightly in the red armchair, the doctor from yesterday walked into the chamber; an Elezen-physician in tow. The female Hyur stated: “Good morning to you, Monsieur Luminae. My versed co-worker is here in order to examine the condition of your injuries. In case you don't like a foreign woman's presence, I don't stay in the room while he checks what you need.”  
Shaking his head, the dragon caged in humane disguise responded: “It is alright. Thou can stay.” “All right. Then I will take meanwhile care of Mademoiselle Shirone.” the doctor agreed. Probably, it would be polite to say, that he wasn't caring for a mortal's gender... But if he told the physician about his general dislike for humane touches, this could cause maybe problems...  
In order to distract himself from his aversion to contact, he focused on the Hyur's doing in lieu of her co-worker's hands. The Elezen was of course professional – the nurse at Camp Dragonhead couldn't keep up – so his grip was from the very beginning careful. Yet, the Methuselah despised how a stranger physically contacted him so nonchalantly; this didn't even change under wariness. His meanwhile bared torso wasn't playing a part in this feeling, though. The usual nervousness ran through his veins simply because of the unavoidable situation.  
Keeping all panic down, Midgardsormr endured well-behaved the treatment.  
His hands seized the arm-rest tense as his wounds hurt under the touch, but still he didn't lash out. Only Cecilia was important... For her, no humane obstacle was frightening enough to constrain him – no longer, after he proved himself that even his own force was meaningless compared to her. Hence his fondness for the archmage pushed his unease more and more into oblivion.  
“Fascinating... You recover faster than the standard of your species would.” the Elezen noticed impressed after he had renewed 'Midge's' bandage. “Adventurers seem to be in general healthy like fishes in the sea, if you listen to Camp Dragonhead's inhabitants.” ,his female co-worker stated, “Mademoiselle Shirone is no exception, although I presume we shouldn't count her here. A Raen like her heals naturally in a short instant.”  
“Do you envy them?” he asked chuckling. She looked with raised brows away from her patient in order to muster the Elezen: “Who? Adventurers or Au Ra?” “Former, since they earn their stamina through their actions. … Now, do you?” Getting wearily dressed in the bolster, the disguised dragon didn't like it how the female doctor eyeballed him for a moment. Fortunately, she payed quickly once more attention to her fellow: “A bit. Of course I don't envy them for being nonstop someone's foot-boys or drudges. But traveling around sounds like an exiting lifestyle.”  
“Mentioning that... Monsieur Luminae, you are allowed to follow your usual adventurer-routine.” ,the male doctor explained, “As long as you don't overdo your efforts, there's no reason for me to imprison you. Just make sure to take breaks and to eat properly.”  
Midgardsormr blinked perplexed.  
For mortal standards, this sounded surely good. To regard, what the physician said, couldn't be all too troublesome. But... How was he supposed to be useful for anybody? He had almost failed at protecting the solely reason for his journey...  
“Now, that's what I call brilliant news.” an annoying voice noticed.  
The female doctor warily eyeballed the Warrior who stepped bluntly into the room. “Monsieur Erik, if your words are intended to be sarcasm, I'd suggest you leave this chamber.” “And let my buddy alone with you scary people? Not going to happen.” the gruff man answered grinning.  
Shaking his head, the Elezen-doctor muttered: “Like cats and mice... Apologies, Monsieur Luminae. My highly-esteemed comrade doesn't fancy the personality which our heroes' good leader owns.” The dragon nodded wittingly. He could sympathize with everybody who disliked Erik's mindset.  
Both physicians walked to the door; obviously done with their tasks.  
“Albeit the two of us don't get along...” ,the woman stated suddenly, “...I know you take care of your comrades with a severe hand. So, be at least a reliable boss and make sure that your friend will only accept harmless jobs for today.”  
Until the doctors were out of range, Erik kept silent.  
But once no footsteps were audible: “She hates me. I had challenged her methods at Whitebrim. The physicians there were boycotting Cid's try to help their patients with a machine for distilled water, so I did in return my best to frustrate the doctors. Can't blame her for being mad, though... Back then in my home-world, I surely possessed far better manners when all of this occurred, but with my lost faith these days, I am hardly able to hold back my cynicism.”  
Midgardsormr's eyelids twitched while he listened.  
Standing up, he scrutinized Cecilia's 'brother' who stepped distracted to the maiden's bed; caressing her face softly. Apparently, everything else lost its importance to Erik when his mind was focused on the dear 'sister'... Nothing, for which the ancient being could judge him. Yet...  
“Thou art inconsistent... On one hand, thou accept persons of authority without question, but then, thou do not tolerate anybody else's orders if they do not fit thy opinion.” the Methuselah criticized. Erik looked up; smirking: “I'm no soldier. Just because I help others as an adventurer, I don't turn my brain off. We Warriors of Light are our own men. We undertake in the end just what we want. Or would you willingly follow Ceci, if we people were mere toys?”  
With a wrinkled nose, the dragon caged in a mortal shape snorted: “I doubt Her grace would have insisted on my personal support if Cecilia was a mindless pawn.” “Like... you had initially thought my sister would be?” the impolite Hyur asked mockingly.  
Frowning, Midgardsormr stared at the Marauder while he, too, came close to the sleeping Raen. “This is a sin I have indeed committed, yes...” ,the dragon admitted and hesitantly placed his hand onto her head, “For my pride, I condemn myself meanwhile... She never deserved my harsh, presumptuous judgment. In truth, she deserves far better than anything I could grant her...”  
Albeit his gaze lay on Cecilia's face, 'Midge' noticed Erik's afflicted, compassionate expression.  
The Marauder's hand retired from his 'sister', before he mumbled: “You--- How should I put this... Midgard, you are willing to die for her. But not like my geezer did for me. You are prepared to throw your life away without a battle; without a tiny possibility of surviving. This risk so ineffable... What my geezer did--- A Kamikaze-performance can not even reach the importance of your act. Becoming mortal for her safety is a gift more meaningful than anything anybody else could give. You have laid your immortality at Cecilia's feet.”  
The dragon-father studied Erik puzzled, when the later placed a hand onto his own.  
“When it comes to me, you are the one who I entrust with my sister. Protect her – and let her protect your torn heart as soon as she awakens.” the man uttered and squeezed Midgardsormr's fingers. “Thou believe she will...?” his lungs failed to give the ancient dragon enough air for even asking. Erik smiled thereupon gently and pressed softly their hands into Cecilia's silky hair. “I know it. There's no doubt she will. And while she recovers... The two of us will use the time to turn you into a formidable adventurer, so that she doesn't have to babysit you after waking up.”

Enthusiasm or rather optimism wasn't Midgardsormr's strength.  
Albeit Erik seemed convinced of the dragon's qualities as a potential adventurer, the later queried his use for the citizens. How should he even support them... His control over that mortal vessel was yet not perfect. And other, than Cecilia, he didn't possess any healing-abilities. Not even a scratch could be cured by him. Furthermore...  
Giving his powers up had also taken all magic in his vessel's cells away. With that, his soul was practically reduced to Level Zero... Practicing spells would perhaps never work again...  
Apart from missing magic, his knowledge lacked a lot considering tools... Without any experience, it was impossible to imagine a hammer or scythe in his hands; the thought of using weapons bewildered him at the most. Howbeit... the Methuselah rejected the bare idea of holding any...  
Walking behind the Warrior's leader to the Foundation, he wondered which tasks could await him. Or rather, which jobs were easy enough for a bloody amateur...  
“Don't think too much about it, man. I'm only picking stuff for you that everybody could accept.” the Marauder assured him self-confident. The dragon gulped nervously when they passed a fountain – or rather a group of mortals standing next to it. Leaning his head to Erik's left ear, he asked: “Such as...?” “Cleaning a mess. Carrying some stuff. Keeping somebody company. Or---”  
“Uhm, dear gentlemen?” ,a young Elezen dressed in simple clothing interrupted the Warrior, “Would you adventurers mind to help me out a little? My comrade got an acute influenza; he can't come to work today. But our new Chocobos are a bit wild – I can't handle them all by myself.” “Ooor supporting a nice stable-boy, who would otherwise end up as bird-food.” the Midlander stated laughing. “Does this mean... you'll help me?” mentioned young man asked irritated.  
Erik gaped at Midgardsormr with a devilish grin on the lips: “Yeah, do we, Midge?” The dragon wrinkled his nose; deeply frustrated how the Hyur forced him to take the lead. But bracing himself, he recalled Cecilia's willingness to help others wherever she could. Therefore, he replied dutifully: “Yes, we will do our best and take care of thy Chocobos.”  
“May the Fury bless you! Okay, then let me think... We must at first get rid of the dirt in the stable. In case the Chocobos become aggressive, we calm them down with a few treats. I have plenty of carrots and Gysahl Greens, so we'll be safe when we just work together. After the stable, it's time for cleaning the birds. I can't promise they won't peck, but the rascals will sooner or later allow you to touch them. And finally, we'll place vegetables into their feeding-troughs. Completely filled, that is, because they are healthy eaters.” the Elezen explained the task.  
Erik chuckled: “Sounds like a merrily distraction. I'm a Chocobo-fan myself, so let's waste no time. I want to see how cheeky your birds can be.” “The word 'fanatic' does rather match...” Midgardsormr grumbled reserved with sunken lids. His complaint was confusing the stable-boy, who asked Erik: “Monsieur, is your friend sulking?” “Nah, he just knows me.” ,Cecilia's brother responded and walked unperturbed ahead, “There exist not many things which can ecstasize me. But a little 'Kweh!' here and there does never fail to brighten my mood up.” “Oh, these are exactly my comrade's words! I bet you are somebody who Chocobos adore.”  
Scratching his left temple, Erik thought loudly: “At least this counts for the majority of them. Spoiled ostriches don't fall for me. The flying elite here in Ishgard seems also not attracted by simply looking at my visage. The best chances I got are those birds who work for normal people; they aren't proud idiots and don't expect the most expensive food.”  
Nodding enthusiastic, the Elezen began to take the lead. “The opinion of my comrade. He, too, favors Chocobos who spend a simple life with us humans. You two enthusiasts should definitely chat a bit as soon as he recovers.” he suggested smiling.  
The men's bliss should be infectious... Sadly, it wasn't. A dragon's nervousness didn't wither just for two candlelights of joy; relaxation impossible as long as concern about the maiden's health beclouded his mind. Reaching the stables, 'Midge' questioned silently if his lack of mortal capability wouldn't turn him into a millstone around the neck.

Humans weren't necessarily a bunch of austere beings.  
Despite owing Cecilia this realization already, Midgardsormr was nevertheless perplexed.  
Both Erik and the stable-boy were patiently overseeing his work; not complaining that he couldn't keep up with them. Albeit they mopped far more dirt from the stony floor, both men appeared glad about his support – instead of demonstrating frustration to see, how slow he was.  
Their accomplishment, though, became even more significative because of the Chocobos. In fact, the Elezen got every now and then disturbed by the feathered creatures; just as he had predicted. Erik, too, was a victim. Albeit not of pecking, to be clear. He should simply give the birds attention – and if he didn't react, a face would appear right in front of his eyes. Nonetheless which method, the Chocobos slowed the mortal's work down. Without that, the men would be even faster.  
On the contrary... All birds cared not in any aspect for the Methuselah. As long as he didn't notice them visibly. When he dared to look at them, their brown eyes flared up with revulsion or anxiety. And they flinched whenever he seemingly approached them.  
Once all dirt was gone, Erik and 'Midge' scrubbed on their knees the ground with hot soap-water; their co-worker did the same with the walls. This activity was a bit more to Midgardsormr's liking – his tempo increased because of the warmth spreading through his arms. Cecilia's brother smirked when he saw this and spoke following in high terms of 'Midge's' exemplary employee-morale. Quickly negating, the disguised dragon was in secret still relieved to improve visibly.  
Yet, his grown motivation wasn't helpful considering the birds.  
When it was time for cleaning plus combing their plumage, all Chocobos avoided without exception contact with the suspicious human. As a bunch of nervous chicken would do, the animals made sure to have lots of space between themselves and the one they obviously suspected to be a carnivore. Luckily, the stable-boy wasn't confused by their behavior. He joked, that 'Midge' must be a scary or rather awe-inducing man, as the rascals didn't consider any shenanigans. Because of this difficulty, however, the Elezen decided to continue just with Erik's help. Such decision was upsetting Midgardsormr inwardly, since he didn't want to be a failure... Hence, the dragon offered to fill meanwhile the feeding-troughs. In favor of having not to deal with the birds, so to speak.  
His self-initiative made both mortals smile gladly before they agreed. Furthermore, the Elezen bowed down; happily grinning amongst the process. Like he had just now obtained a valuable gift. That over-exaggerated reaction was a bit embarrassing – additional confusing the ancient existence. How could his little gesture even have such importance to any mortal...  
Thanks to the number of Chocobos, the dragon-father was this time quicker than his co-workers. Not even half of the birds were cleaned when he had refilled all troughs. So, he used the opportunity to put new straw into the stable. Why these ostriches loved to lie on dried weed, he had no idea, but watching their faces light up with shy joy proved the merit of his action. Albeit they didn't trust him, a friendly turn was still enough to weaken their fear a little.  
With their work done, the stable-boy thanked 'both' adventurers.  
Yet, when he wanted to pay them, Erik instantly rejected the money. For him existed no necessity to accept a handful of Gil, wherefore the Marauder insisted on giving only 'Midge' a little reward. Although the Elezen didn't understand, why an adventurer should deny payment, he accepted.  
Earning money felt odd... Jingling coins in one's hands a strange experience...  
The Methuselah remembered, how Cecilia had stated several times to appear like somebody who took advantage of problems instead of helping selfless out. Partly, he could relate to her sentiment. In consideration of himself, these Gil weren't deserved. For her brother counted the opposite. Diligence like he demonstrated – despite his manners – should be well acknowledged.  
When Erik and Midgardsormr left the building, the former congratulated the later on his very first plus successful mission. Admittedly, the dragon didn't feel like deserving any praise due to little benefit for both mortals and Chocobos. But it wasn't so bad to support somebody a little bit. Hence, 'Midge' decided to continue in the moment Erik asked for interest into another job-search.  
At least, distraction was a welcome matter. Even if it wasn't unconditionally.

For the rest of this day – and the following two – he undertook with Erik quests in Ishgard.  
Albeit both Haurchefant and Alphinaud expressed clear concern, if 'Midge' wouldn't overdo it, Cecilia's comrades backed him always up. They called their newest buddy reasonable and rational; understanding his need – which was yet a tamed one – to focus the brain on something else than the maiden's coma. Bertram even stated, that he himself would never be able to act as careful as 'Midge' to increase only slowly the exhaustion-factor of accepted tasks per day.  
The physicians, too, supported the disguised dragon's resolve.  
Although the duration of his breaks was arguable, Midgardsormr was at least following the doctor's understanding of eating properly. Thanks to Erik's skills as a cook, he consumed per meal different ingredients – thus receiving enough vitamins and minerals. Occasionally, Tataru kept company with both males during lunchtime or later in the afternoon; giving them every time delicious fruits which she had organized from Limsa Lominsa.  
On the surface, everything seemed to be fine. But in truth there was a problem...  
He could not get used to it. This humane body...  
There were unbearable differences his new vessel demonstrated in consideration of natural needs. Albeit 'odd' might be the more fitting description... That corpus experienced time more precisely. While a dragon would always have trouble with the mortal dotingness of a clock-time-adjustment, this thing here seemed to have a rough idea about the current setting. By it's own, his Hyur-disguise demanded some treatments with much more speed or more frequency than he was used to.  
For example, his new corpus needed surprisingly lots of nutriments; much more than a wyrm should expect from such little stomach. Aforesaid one had also to consume more often such things. As if this would not be enough, his shape was picky about the food's temperature. A hot meal burned its tongue easily... Boiling tea hurt its throat.  
Even more hilarious: The disguise wanted to feel water quite often on it's skin – feeling dirty after touching the most trivial things like nourishment or Chocobos. Such as, after he had helped out cleaning the stables, he noticed gradually how his body could only think of a shower. That feeling increased along the passing day until he was finally able to use a bathroom in Fortemps' manor. Same oddness counted for both days afterwards.  
On the other hand, Midgardsormr's vessel demanded lots of movement. When he simply stood still like one normally would do as a dragon, his corpus began to feel uneasy. As soon as the disguise was not busy, it would either start to twitch or some limbs would start to prickle.  
Furthermore, the body denied sleep when he wanted to indulge into rest while he was taking breaks at daytime. On the contrary, during nighttime it would only sleep a few hours. Ironically the humans said, he would take healthy eight hours, and praised him for his lively, energetic shape.

Coughing, he shivered a little. It was so cold...  
“Are you okay?” the Marauder asked unperturbed; putting the hammer in his hand over the shoulder. Scrutinizing Erik with earnest eyes, Midgardsormr ground his teeth. Detestable mortal... His steel-eyes were watching in their usual, mocking manner.  
“Do not misunderstand me... I endure the temperature somehow. This shape is not like a newborn. And leaving thy Holy City for a while is welcome to me. But... Doing so means also---” “My sister is in good hands. Relax a bit.” the Midlander cut him short; a carefree grin on the lips.  
Before he could complain about these lacking manners, Erik offered him the second hammer they had taken to this isolated place in Central Coerthas. Sighing, the dragon reached out for the tool. There was no option to refuse... He didn't even have a choice after the Warrior's leader had gently forced him to join a trip into the nature. Once in the web, escaping wouldn't work.  
Albeit the activity itself didn't sound too bad... Gaining cooking-ingredients for Fortemps' servants, like Cecilia's 'brother' had stated. Salt from this area; some herbs and fishes. Though... Nevertheless, the situation displeased the Methuselah. His 'teacher' was the worst company. Even with the Warrior bearing not solely the 'fault', that 'Midge' stood in this icy landscape – far away from the maiden.  
Why the doctor's gave their blessing to venturing around – after only three days had passed – Midgardsormr didn't know... He condemned them anyways for their rushed decision. Trusting him just because of doing successful for three days tiny jobs appeared deranged. Of course they knew better than he did, how much a human could do while the corpus was injured... And to leave mortal's cage of lies for a short period behind was indeed a relief...  
Notwithstanding, the physicians were blind beings.  
Both doctors fell for the official story of his identity. They automatically thought he wouldn't jump headfirst into danger. Thus, their judgment was manipulated. After all, Erik depicted him in authentic manner as the kind of adventurer who solely gathered stuff with mere tools in his hands. Instead of hitting beasts with a weapon. The dragon wasn't convinced about spreading such lies. Midgardsormr hated constructs of falsehood. Yet... it was plausible... and meant to be his shield.  
After all... Every adventurer seemed to be specialized on something... Protecting, hunting, gathering, crafting... Because of that, having nothing which made 'Midge' obviously an adventurer would turn him into a suspicious person. At the most through the unlikeliness that the famous Warriors of Light would surround themselves with somebody not as hardworking as they were.  
Closing his eyes resigned, he listened to Erik's instructions.  
“...And don't try to gather too much from the same spot. We want to preserve nature; not ruin it. Strip-mining is what idiots do. That counts later for our Botanist- and Fisher-work as well. Greed is a strict taboo.” the leader explained severely. Somehow, it didn't feel right when Erik addressed him with earnest words. Words which clarified the human's responsibility for Midgardsormr... Of course he wasn't the same exemplar who the Marauder used to call a friend in another--- a parallel Eorzea. But... For the father of dragon-kind, that odd familiarity the Hyur bestowed normally upon him was one of the little reasons to accept this man.  
Hence, he denied to be treated like an underling. Albeit Erik's unforced sassiness was nerve-racking, it was still better than the cold sense of duty which shone upon all people except for Cecilia.  
Looking at the hammer in his hands, Midgardsormr mumbled: “I respect this planet much more than mortals do... Exploiting the world I have sworn to dignify and protect is a sin I won't commit. Thou do not need to lecture me.” When he glanced at Cecilia's 'sibling', Erik grinned peacefully. “Sorry. Got carried away... I'm just a bit sick of gathers who think our job grants us fool's-license. There are way too many of them.” the Midlander chuckled.  
Yes... This was what humankind did... Taking... Destroying...  
Erik positioned himself afterwards in front of a spot he found appropriate.  
As a skilled miner, one short glimpse alone let him see at once where another good extraction-place in the crag was located. With a wave of the left hand, he showed Midgardsormr the spot to occupy. When they both were ready, the Hyur stated: “I could suggest you a proper technique how to swing your tool, but it's better when you simply try yourself.”  
Nodding, Midgardsormr raised the hammer in the same moment as Cecilia's brother did and let it with lots of strength crash into the rock. They quarried a few portions of salt, before Erik declared they had to switch to another corner. As both males continued their work, the Methuselah recognized how much he could identify himself with this activity. The usage of a heavy tool was partly exhausting, but his muscles were grateful for any challenging motion.  
“This world here...” ,Erik began casually all of a sudden, “Technically, it's the same as my Eorzea has been. Only clear difference was always Cecilia... and now, you are such a real variation, too. With my sister's existence, I originally thought we might have a chance to rescue the planet, but... Giving your immortality up to save her life is a clear sign to me. You are one of us. And that's why we have a real possibility to prevent another world's destruction. Together, nothing can stop us.”  
Looking at the ground, the Methuselah shook his head.  
“I have no value for thy war. As a human, there is only so little I can do. And even IF I would fight next to all of thee... How art thou able to be so confident?” he asked and swung the hammer anew. The Hyur smirked diabolic after his own tool had hit the rock: “Because I'm seriously comparing our worlds. I know what will happen. Every event so far occurred to 99% just as in my Eorzea.”  
Midgardsormr stopped short.  
“Thou say, these two versions are almost identical?” the dragon asked irritated. Erik nodded: “Well, surely there's a turbulence... I reached this world here way earlier than the death of mine occurred. My time-travel has therefore maybe caused problems... Nevertheless, the structure is the same, yes. Truly diverse is so far only your decision to interfere.” “If I am not like the wyrm thou hast known... When my actions differ so much... Could this insinuate, that our worlds – despite their similarities – do no longer share the same flow of time?” Midgardsormr wondered.  
“Don't think so.” the Warrior's leader negated nonchalant. Frowning, the Methuselah studied Erik. The later smiled confidently: “Announcements about attacks of both heretics and dragons were these days exactly what they should have been in consideration of my time-line. So, I really doubt something small like a butterfly's wing-beat has the effect to change the destiny of all people involved in the dragon-war.”  
“This may not change everything... But it could be significant enough to alternate the most important occurrences.” 'Midge' warned while the Hyur went ahead for another gathering-spot. “Pfft, then your planet would already fall apart.” Cecilia's brother gave a gruff reply. Seconds of nasty silence passed. Midgardsormr stated finally slightly impatient: “I cannot follow thee.”  
Erik's hammer crashed two times into the stone before he finally responded harshly: “Simply stated: I have a counterpart. Another version of me exists in this world. Could have replaced him, but I refuse taking another person's existence. Too many died already just because I couldn't save them. Thus, Hydaelyn made it so that my mirror-image wouldn't become an adventurer. He's following now the carrier I was never able to choose. While I am slaying animalistic plus humane monsters, he can be the pastry-chef and head-cook I always wished to be.”  
Yet stomaching this information, Midgardsormr realized something.  
This secret was the reason why Erik had never revealed his real given name to any adventurer and their comrades. He didn't want to spread the Warrior's population under an appellation which would perhaps reach one day his counterpart.  
“Thou...” ,the ancient being began hesitantly, “...hast been forced to become a fighter?”  
Erik didn't answer. He only bashed a small stone until only pieces remained. The dragon watched silently how the flying splinters fell down; reflecting light just as glass. When the agonized man placed his hammer's head onto the ground and leaned his weight onto the tool, leaded by empathy 'Midge' tried once more emphatic: “Thou hast never dreamed of this life, correct?”  
Erik sighed with a sad smile. His gaze was fixed on the distant horizon: “No. Helping others under the risk of my own life was never something I desired as a child. All I wished for was becoming like my dad a head-cook. Like my mom a pastry-chef. As a teenager, I had even studied baking under my uncle's eyes. But then... a crime occurred in his village.”  
Looking directly at the dragon-father, he continued: “Suspect was a young woman. An innocent one who had randomly become the real criminal's scapegoat – a corrupt police-man. See, I knew that lady a little, so I couldn't watch when everybody demanded her punishment. I was alone, though. No adventurer present – nobody willing to help her. Thus it was me who became her savior. Convicting the true delinquent in order to save who had to be saved.”  
The dragon-father narrowed understanding his lids.  
“This happening was what turned thee into a man of justice... Starting with that day, thou were never again able to close the eyes when somebody needed help... Hence I presume, Her grace changed thy mirror-image's fate due to sending an adventurer to this village. So that another man rescued this woman.” he stated; not asking for accurateness.  
“Yeah...” ,Erik scratched his right temple, “Changing a little detail prevented this other me from feeling called by social duty. One man in this world became never an adventurer... One, who was meant to be a 'hero' is these days busy with cooking and baking...”  
Demonstrating more enthusiasm, the Marauder continued after coughing: “Hey, if this altered factor would be a problem for the planet's fate, it could already have crumbled years ago. But however, that's not the case! Time's flowing unhindered. Just like before, I traveled to Eorzea and met my four comrades. Once more Dalamud fell down – the catastrophe started again while the five of us fought with our buddies against the Garlean Empire. As prior to this, in the battle's final moment Louisoix sent us Warriors to the future in order to save our lives. And as expected, five years later we stopped Gaius van Baelsar and endured following a lot until we ended up in Ishgard.”  
Midgardsormr inhaled sharply.  
This report sounded indeed like a proof, that Eorzea's history was so far following the time-line which Erik had seen... Even though there were turbulences, nothing appeared different...  
But there was a personal urge which didn't leave the dragon's mind alone.  
“Since when... do thou know Cecilia?” the Methuselah asked. Her personal brother exhaled; considering obviously how to respond. A short moment later, he had sorted his thoughts: “Personally I met her long before we started our offensive against Garlemald's Black Wolf. Explaining the exact moment to you is a little bit difficult... A while before the Scions of the Seventh Dawn had been captured by Gaius' henchwoman. No idea if Ceci told you about that day... But it's not like Cecilia would have been a stranger--- a novelty to me. Ere that first meeting, Minfilia had already told me a lot about this Raen.”  
Ah, so the Scion's figurehead was in the strict sense responsible for this 'pair of siblings'...  
Walking to the next big rock, Erik added: “It's not self-evident for Au Ra to befriend others easily. At the most not members of a wild tribe. Normally, both Raen and Xaela would avoid everything in this land which distrusts them. But Cecilia did invariably express the wish for creating new bonds no matter to which species somebody belongs. With her open world-view, it's no wonder she was quickly adored by the Sylphs. That's why Minfilia thought of her as a special woman; resulting first and foremost in my motivation to personally contact this Au Ra. I wanted to see with my own eyes, how capable she truly was.”  
Hitting together with him the stones, Midgardsormr asked curious: “Presumably, thou hast found what thou were looking for?” Erik laughed muted; replying a little embarrassed: “More than that... Much more... Let me try to picture this for you... It was... impressive to watch how she interacted with all Sylphs; at the most with Noraxia. There was no difference between her way to approach people and this wild tribe... She surprised me even more, when I took her with me for completing some tasks in Central Coerthas. For an amateur, Cecilia's skills back then were already amazing... To see above all, that also Estinien was trustful towards this Raen, strengthened my decision to make her the sixth official Warrior of Light. … I think that's enough salt.”  
Hm, her quirks had been the initiator for involving the maiden into all of this... Odd...  
While Erik searched for a fitting place to gather the herbs they had promised to obtain, Midgardsormr wanted to know casually: “Thou wanted her to be one of thy closest comrades because she is an Au Ra?” Chuckling, the Midlander shook his head. “I know that it doesn't look like a mere coincidence. Above all, thanks to Ceci we were finally a balanced troop of three men and three women. You're not the first who asks. But nah, these things weren't important to me. … Albeit I admit it makes me happy how much she matches the group.”  
“If it is not for completing thy group-dynamics, which reason did thou have to make her truthfully one of thee?” the dragon was more curious than he wanted to admit. Testing with his scythe a suspicious spot, Erik smiled: “You should know by yourself. Hydaelyn gave Cecilia a bright gift. That alone symbolizes already, how special my sister is, don't you think? At least I for one example haven't met so far somebody else with the stubbornness to not slay a single 'pangolin'. Or to find simply all wild tribes likeable. … We won't find here any herbs. Let's check another place.”  
So, Cecilia's compassionate heart was what made Erik reach out for her...  
Thinking about the maiden's sweetness darkened 'Midge's' face, so he sought for distraction.  
“What about thy appellation? The pseudonym which all mortals use to address thee? When Cecilia introduced thee to me, her explanation sounded like she would have been one of the adventurers who picked thy cover-name.” Midgardsormr noticed while he walked by Erik's side.  
Raising the brows, the Marauder studied him perplexed. “You care for that?” ,the man wondered, “It's no special story… Bertram, Annika, Tammy and Carlos weren't nasty enough for coercing me into telling them my name. It was after all not necessary as we cooperated before Dalamud's impact rather rarely with other groups. These days, however, we meet more frequently with comrades plus allies. Hence, all of them needed a possibility to address me. … In their opinion, I look like an 'Erik' – why that's so, I have no idea. But I'm fine with it, so I am now wearing this name. … By the way, Ceci was the first one who made officially use it.” The dragon smiled when he heard that.

Similar to the hammer, a scythe in 'Midge's' hands felt also not bad.  
When Erik had located the needed herbs, both males gathered here and there with the large tools a few leaves. Afterwards, they sought over and over for another place to went easy on the resources. Since plants regrew, the dragon considered this work as superior to mining. And even if admitting that was frustrating, the things he had once heard from Cecilia about Botanists were believable. They logged trees and cut flowers down with the same frequency they made sure to sow new plants. To save the nature. Formidable people such as those from Gridania's guild as well as adventurers who protected the land instead of robbing the last granule of dust out of it.  
The Methuselah was close to favoring this work.  
There was just a little difficulty preventing him from doing so...  
Moving the tool needed less power but more precision – a task that challenged not only his stamina. His patience with himself got also tested by every motion. Despite the little things he was able to do just like the mortals, this job wasn't already a children's game for him. Keeping permanent control over the arms--- hands appeared quite troublesome. Yet he was indeed willing to fulfill the quest even while his muscles tensed under the building pressure of holding a scythe adequate.  
A while passed until they had obtained all needed herbs.  
The Hyur checked the leaves to make sure their quality sufficed. Then, Erik repaired 'Midge's' tool as it had been slightly damaged. An old blacksmith-hammer was the only aid he got...  
Watching the man's effort made Midgardsormr rub his right forearm unobtrusive. He hadn't planned to create any additional hassle for Cecilia's 'brother'... Undeniable, it was solely the dragon's blame how depraved the blade's condition on the exterior was...  
Erik noticed his worry. Grinning, her chosen sibling cheered the Methuselah up with a promise, that the last part of their job wouldn't be affected by Midgardsormr's handicap. Albeit this sounded firstly pleasant, on second thought the Methuselah became nervous. He could not imagine, how their next activity should not suffer under insufficient usage of a fishing-rod. But he had no choice... A bill needed to be payed – and so was the contract with Hydaelyn. In her generosity Her grace had given him a young shape, so he must in return utilize it wisely and dutifully.  
They went to a small river nearby the Observatorium of Astrological Phenomena.  
Unperturbed, Erik waltzed onto a rock which poked out of the grayish liquid. Midgardsormr wasn't self-confident enough for simply following the example to pick an own corner, so he stopped next to the water-stream. Observing helpless the icy waves from the dry ground. He didn't know where other good spots existed... Possessed no information about the prey's penchants... Knew no tricks... All he could tell was how pointless it would be to stand directly by a co-fisher's side...  
From the corners of his eyes, despite all helplessness he could see it... See, how the Warrior shrugged uncaring as he watched him; the inexperienced dragon. Like an older brother would do, that human wasn't thinking of support. Didn't find any overprotective motivation to get him out of this odd matter... Surely Erik knew where fishes reacted more likely to baits... But unambiguously, he wasn't willing to share his knowledge.  
Above all, Cecilia's brother strengthened this frustrating impression when he voiced the opinion, that water was water unimportant which spot a fisher occupied. Learning by doing had more weight than any lessons could have. Tss... This chosen mortal was rather exhausting than heroic...  
With a swift motion, Erik threw an ordinary-looking rod into 'Midge's' hands.  
Simply testing stuff by oneself was the easiest way, the Hyur commanded once more. No technique or artifice he knew would replace personal experience – not even for something simple as fishing. To be an adventurer meant sometimes to have no guide--- not even an idea how stuff functioned. Courage, patience and smartness were the best friends of their business.  
Sighing, the dragon walked encouraged by the exhausting Marauder a few meters away.  
If that speech was the man's favored life-philosophy, Midgardsormr wondered how any newcomers could willingly seek the Hyur's advice... On the other hand, indisputable all Warriors of Light matched his description, so Erik preached basically nothing world-shattering.  
Feeling still a bit resigned, nevertheless the Methuselah gave it a try.  
A while passed. And with the vanishing minutes, Midgardsormr's mood became brighter. Not only thanks to the break for his strained muscles, though. Holding a rod under the gentle sound of running water – pulling sometimes a fish out of the stream – negated the strong gloom creeping through his brain. Fresh air in his lungs soothing the vessel's heartbeat.  
Unbelievable how such simple attempt could appeal to him. But indeed fishing was sudden delight. It was relaxing; a task which silenced all nervous thoughts. A gathering-profession not bound to humane will as fish plus seafood came and go as the animals pleased.  
True recreation...  
Quickly he had caught several fishes. Different exemplars, thus he didn't know which to keep and which to throw back. When Erik checked for him their quality, the Marauder declared contentedly that the whole catch was usable for cooking.  
When they went slowly back to Ishgard, Cecilia's brother noticed casually how Midgardsormr was as amateur-gather just as good as she had been. Yet, there was a difference. Albeit the result underlay bare randomness, his incipiently fishing-skills outmatched hers. With enough training – and in case he was willing to study the animal's habits – he could become a real master.  
Normally, mortal understanding of 'talent' didn't mean anything to Midgardsormr.  
But somehow, this praise hit a nerve... Embarrassed him...

Snowflakes fell onto his head. Disgusting wind cut his face.  
But despite the weather and many people on the street, the Methuselah couldn't move further.  
Pressing the purple books in his arms against the ribcage, he gulped hardly while he considered how to complete his current job. Which risk one should expect now... There was after all the possibility of becoming noticed. As soon as he stepped into the building right before him, mortal attention could lay on his very shoulders...  
If just one of the employees here knew who he was, 'Midge' would be certainly doomed. After all, the Warriors of Light, Alphinaud and Tataru had been so far pretty busy with informing everybody in this Holy City about Cecilia's 'boyfriend'. So, it was unlikely or rather absurd in his opinion, that the news of 'her trophy' wouldn't have reached any of the mages...  
Cursed, why had – of all things – HE to be tasked with delivering some new tomes as a gift for the Astrology-guild? Why hadn't he refused? Should only a single person recognize him in these halls, a specific woman would learn about his existence... Albeit he wouldn't feel surprised at all in case SHE had already heard of Cecilia's accident plus the maiden's savior...  
This word made him almost vomit. A 'fine' savior he was... The maiden died almost on him and recovered only physically... But still people saw a tragic hero as well as lover in 'Midge'...  
All mortals except for Erik treated him so far with empathy and admiration – something which made his stomach clench every time it happened. Hence, imagining Cecilia's special female friend could do the same to him paralyzed Midgardsormr inwardly. A guillotine for his conscience.  
He prayed to not meet her... Hoped nobody would notice him...  
That nobody might inform this Au Ra...  
Inhaling, he stepped to the heavy door which opened under muted, squeaky noise.  
Within its walls, the Astrology-guild was quite empty. A relief for now... While Midgardsormr went to the administration, the heavy smell of old paper filled his nose entirely. Images of Cecilia's studies in this building appeared in his mind; pushing additional guilt into him to visit this place without her. He could barely swallow this sentiment down, wherefore his arms squeezed once more the books reflexively. Fortunately, they were thick texts...  
The Elezen in charge didn't pay any attention to him when he approached aforesaid Astrologian. Mortals might find such behavior rude, but for the dragon was this coincidence more than welcome. A pages-filling list kept this man busy; redounding to advantage. Thus, Midgardsormr could hand the tomes over without even a second of eye-contact.  
As swift as he could, the Methuselah walked back to the entrance. Every step became lighter when he neared the door. A weight lifted from his shoulders – they gradually relaxed until he reached out for the doorknob; all tension gone. No longer finding the wood's tune noisy, a small smile flitted over his lips when his feet carried the ancient being in disguise out of the building.  
Behind him, a tripping sound arose suddenly. Footsteps.  
“Please, wait a moment!” the familiar voice called.  
His muscles tensed. He petrified.  
Augustine. Of course she had been in the Astrology-guild. Presumably she had been upstairs and came down right in the moment when he turned around in order to leave...  
Squinting the eyelids, he waited for her to catch up.  
Midgardsormr only looked at the Au Ra when she stopped next to him. After her unplanned sprint he scrutinized the panting woman; it hurt him to see her... These physical resemblances to Cecilia stabbed his heart. Additional, the Astrologian was similarly gazing at him with a worried expression like the precious girl would normally do... Agony; pure agony in his chest...  
The magician blushed a little – embarrassed by her own impoliteness, perhaps.  
“M-My name is Augustine Valentia. I'm a friend of a Warrior of Light. It's Cecilia Shirone. A-And... Y-You are... Cecilia's boyfriend, right?” the Au Ra asked nervously. The pitch of her voice should be amusing him... As if she was speaking to a higher being, the sound was higher than usual and shakily. But he couldn't find malicious joy in this moment... Even with his ill humor of an old man, the current overall-situation was too depressing as if he could find here anything funny.  
Undecided, what to do, the dragon furrowed resigned his brows.  
“The name was 'Midge Luminae', correct...?” Augustine inquired unsettled.  
Aah, he had no time for considering a response... Thus, he nodded with a helpless mien. In secret, Midgardsormr was conflicted about the right way how to treat somebody like this Astrologian... Someone, who was obviously not scared to show what she felt. Who demonstrated her feelings for the maiden openly. Loving Cecilia so truly and unrestricted that it was scaring him...  
Speaking of making the dragon anxious. That's what Augustine did abruptly.  
Forthright she took his hands – abashing him a lot with this action. Not to forget how harsh her grip was when she kept him close to her beating heart. This was strange... In general, the species Au Ra seemed to be stronger than ordinary mortals... Or was it just his personal weakness to become overpowered by females of their kind...?  
The Astrologian didn't let him time to reflect more on this awkwardness. “Please, PLEASE give Ceci not up!” ,Augustine pleaded, “I know she will make it! The stars speak loudly of her recovery, hence do not break up with her!” As she squeezed his hands, he recognized something important... He felt it clearly. She was one of Hydaelyn's chosen children. Just like the Warriors of Light.  
Yet, entirely perplexed by her fear, 'Midge' voiced his confusion: “Why should I even do this...? Thy words are incomprehensible...” Augustine nodded emphatic: “Guys make overhasty decisions when they're desperate. You wouldn't be the first boy who does headfirst something he regrets later. At least I hope you are rather one of that kind. Instead of those men who don't even care for others and move on as if nothing happened...”  
Insulted by this statement, he eyeballed the Au Ra with piercing irises. “If I would not care for Cecilia's state of health, there would be no abyss underneath my very feet – ready to swallow me in my weakest moments. Thou art completely unable to reconstruct how much I suffer.”  
Right after his voice fell silent, the threatening red glow in his gaze emerged.  
Augustine's antique-rose eyes widened in surprise. She beheld him partly doubting, partly alarmed. Albeit the crimson light vanished quickly, the dragon knew he had strengthened her nervousness. But his own was incomparable to her tiny anxiety – he could hardly feel sorry for a human while the vessel's heartbeat disturbed him. And this Raen was anyways just as brave as his maiden.  
Opposite to the Methuselah, she overcame her concern: “I only wanted to make clear, how much you are granted with bold luck. You are the first person in Eorzea who's in a relationship with Ceci.” Her fingers gripped his hands tighter. “The star's help isn't needed for anybody in order to know, that she accepted only reluctantly your feelings. And I am sure it will break her trust into relationships if you either lose hope through desperation or deny--- forsake this love easily.”  
“I'd rather rip my own heart out!” ,he snapped angrily, “Thou hast no idea, what she means to me... Considering humane standards, I am absolutely not qualified for any socializing. But she is gentle towards me and comprehends my sentiments in a way that not even my species seems to be able to. I do hardly deserve her care... It is a crime that I adore this maiden at all. But still I feel this way... Her affection is a god-send gift in my opinion. This is why... I wish only for Cecilia's well-being and her very happiness. Everything else does not matter to me.”  
Augustine gave him a soft smile akin to the lovely mien he yearned for: “If that's true, PLEASE endure a little bit longer. She will return to you. I know she will gain her consciousness soon back. So for the sake of both of you, stay strong.” Pressing his teeth slightly into the left cheek, Midgardsormr shivered. While his lids fell almost down, he murmured: “I am patient... Much more than humans usually are... But I am not accustomed to such a situation like this one... My... family does not know sickness like men normally do...”  
“Sounds like a healthy bunch, hmhm...” ,Augustine noticed, “Well, it's for me also a first time to see somebody who's close to me in a comatose state... You know, I visited her right after Haurchefant told me about Ceci's accident. Though I also wanted to meet you as soon as possible, our knight in shining armor begged me to not push anything. … He thinks highly of you, Midge. And I presume he wants to support you in return for saving her life. Of course Haurchefant is a bit overprotective, but you can truly see a friend in him.”  
Trying to leave all depression behind, the Methuselah noticed minimal smiling: “Ventures are still not making him excited in spite of my own recovery... Even with the Warrior's support, there is hardly any confidence coming from Haurchefant. I must be indeed a poor excuse of a so-called hero when the Elezen acts like a mother-hen.”  
Laughing gently, the Astrologian agreed: “He has absolutely trouble with letting go, that's for sure. But I must admit, you are really not looking completely restored. Maybe you need a challenge... Something which motivates you more than gathering. Or an undertaking that frustrates you a lot, wherefore your stubbornness allows you to blend every other burden out.”  
Tilting his head to the left shoulder, 'Midge' pondered silently for a moment.  
“Thou art describing a feeling I partly experience when I use my fishing-rod. But doing so is indeed no challenge for me...” “Do you have a rival who could put a bit pressure on you?” the Astrologian asked curious. Thinking about Erik for a second, Midgardsormr shook quickly his head. This man was a nuisance, true... But definitely nobody who challenged him on the same level. When it came to being an adventurer, the Midlander was far superior. A master; teacher.  
Bumping her fists together, Augustine suggested: “Then try to become a healer like me or Cecilia! As you hate fighting, you could support in order to prevent damage! You would heal injuries and create barriers!” Glancing at the floor, the Methuselah furrowed his brows. “I... suffer under a lack of magic. When I gave all reserves I had in a specific situation, my force reached a tier below zero. Hence I do not even know... if I will ever regain the ability to use magic at all.”  
Augustine grumbled and grabbed his face subsequently; forcing him to look at her. The mage managed this as he hadn't expected her to touch him on the cheeks. “I bet I can help you.” ,she said while he stared into her dusky-rose eyes, “If I medicate you now and then as some kind of therapy, we'll surely can kick-start your own magical flow.” He sighed and shook the head. His vessel wasn't meant to be powerful... In exchange for Hydaelyn's support, he could in fact be appreciative about being even able to still breathe after the first twenty-two hours had passed...  
“Until Ceci wakes up, you try to do all kinds of things in order to lessen the burden for her friends, correct?” Augustine asked suddenly. Not thinking about it, he nodded reflexively. Something that surprised himself when Midgardsormr realized it. The Astrologian, however, smiled happily: “That's what I thought. So, it surely would be helpful if you could use magic again, right?”  
Oh-oh, he saw where this was going... She would let him no chance to refuse... “Fine... As thou art not allowing me another choice... But I will only accept this 'therapy' in the evening after I am done with my tasks. In best case, when I have finished dinner.” The Au Ra giggled: “This is a good plan! Okay, then you'll come every evening to me in the Astrology-guild, yes?”  
Studying her gloomily, the disguised dragon agreed.

A little depressed, Midgardsormr walked through the corridor.  
He should have enjoyed eating breakfast with Cecilia's friends as usual since eight days...  
But with his growing grasp for mortals due to his new experiences, 'Midge' became also better in seeing through charades which were meant to conceal feelings. Hence, the meal before hadn't exactly the effect on him one would wish for. Albeit it wasn't for Alphinaud or Tataru, that his mood was overshadowed... Both bearers of pointed ears were easy to read.  
No, it was for the adventurers.  
The Warriors of Light were impressive in their way of dealing with sadness; if not even handling their suffering. Every time something negative began to consume them, they swallowed it down and moved forward. Albeit nothing was forgotten--- albeit they spoke openly about the things which made them worried, there was no outliving of emotions. And these brave things that the Warriors did every day... Those were in the end drowning what the five truly held in their hearts.  
Just like he did, the group missed her. They wished to see Cecilia awake again.  
If Midgardsormr was already desperate, her close friends were even more helpless under the facade of lively adventurers who dutifully did their work. Losing the majority of their Scion-companions had shaken them, but almost losing a 'sister' was truly something they hardly could recover from.  
As he went through Fortemps' manor, he wondered if there was something HE could do for them... Growing fond of these people had altered his way of thinking... That was, after all, what he realized after Augustine had expected from him to be searching for ways to support them.  
Yes, he wanted to lessen their burden. For Annika and Tammy at the most, because the two were 'her girls'. There existed probably no cure for Erik and Carlos as both men were rough as rocks... But for Bertram, perhaps, was a possibility given to lighten his burden... And... maybe Alphinaud, who was Cecilia's little favorite... as well as the motherly Tataru could deserve a distraction.  
Midgardsormr paused when he saw the opened door leading to her room.  
Who was visiting Cecilia already in the early morning, while her adventurer- and Scion-friends began their daily routine? For Haurchefant, Cid and Estinien was rather evening common – and Lord Aymeric had only once in the early night found the time to see her for a short instant. Augustine waltzed also not to this place before night drew close, although she accompanied 'Midge' rather after their 'therapy-session' instead of coming alone.  
Hesitating, the Methuselah didn't know what to do.  
He had only come here to retrieve another pullover... Since it was a bit too fresh plus windy outside – and thanks to Erik insisting on placing 'Midge's' clothes into the wardrobe at Fortemps' villa. Whoever was visiting the maiden now was probably not wishing to meet anybody... But because 'Midge' was officially her partner, he had in theory the right to interrupt...  
Albeit he quivered a bit, the dragon went into the chamber.  
There was a man next to her bed. A knight.  
It was an older exemplar. His black hair started to become grey; the short beard yet untouched by the aging-process. The Hyur's iron eyes were small and fatigued, although their gaze appeared wise. Both lance plus simple armor looked outworn, thus he must be serving Coerthas for a long while.  
Although he seemed lost in sadness, the knight recognized 'Midge'.  
Keeping the gaze on the maiden's face, the mortal opened his mouth: “I'm really sorry to appear without any warning... My duties at the Observatorium didn't allow me to arrive Ishgard any earlier. I know Cecilia wouldn't mind my visit no matter the clock-time-adjustment, but the two of us had so far not the pleasure to meet each other...”  
Ah, such welcome difference to the most famous Dragoon... Mannerism.  
Trying to comfort him, the disguised dragon replied: “Do not feel guilty. As her friend, thou hast every right to see Cecilia whenever thou please. Although thou must be anyways trustworthy, when the narcissistic Azure Knight calls thee his teacher.” Surprised, the Hyur looked at him. “Pardon, but how did you know who I am?” Alberic asked confused.  
Midgardsormr chuckled slightly. Seemingly this man expected himself to be unremarkable... Well, normally this would be correct, but... “Thou art old enough to execute the role of Cecilia's father. Thy weapon looks battered and speaks of thy experience. Not to forget... Erik does not seem to talk about other Lancers than thee and thy former protégé.” “Hah, yes, that's indeed typical for him.” ,the knight laughed, “In fact, our Marauder doesn't seem to be a fan of Lancers, so Estinien and I are the only ones who enjoy his considerateness.”  
Such truthful smile changed one's intention easily...  
Even thought there existed no wish for staying, the Methuselah began to converse with Alberic.  
He was indeed a fine old man. Friendly and calm; a humble person; luckily not blessed with the ego of the current Azure Dragoon. This Midlander appeared to be far more compassionate than one should expect from Estinien's role-model. The patience Alberic emitted had a soothing effect, wherefore it was conflicting to remember that Nidhogg's eye had once chosen this man.  
Wasn't Midgardsormr's son preying on mortal weaknesses?  
Picking the next bearer of his scheming body-part had always followed the Great Wyrm's plans...  
On the other hand, maybe all these positive qualities were exactly what Nidhogg had been trying to take advantage on... Just listening to Alberic made more than clear, how much colleagues and fellow inhabitants of Coerthas meant to this good knight. Thus his sympathy for other people was probably once a welcome possibility to manipulate Alberic's thoughts as well as feelings...  
Silently, Midgardsormr wondered why he himself didn't make the mortals suffer who had betrayed their kind... Just as Nidhogg, he had lost a dear relative. Not a sister, but a daughter. Above all, countless grandchildren had been slayed, too...  
Was the pact, which he was agreeing to in the past, manipulating his decisions? So, that he spared all humans from a dragon-father's wrath in favor of Hydaelyn's generosity? He had sworn to protect the planet in exchange for welcoming his unborn brood... Did this force him to be a mere watcher? But if this was his fate... Could he even be satisfied with his role? Only watching – hoping quietly for his kind to kill Ishgard's men one by one...?  
Hatred was within him. Akin to his whole species since the day Ratatoskr died. Yet, the old Lancer next to him had also reasons to despise dragons. Cecilia had been right when she was accusing Midgardsormr's kind of not realizing their own mistake. They hadn't tried to explain for any later humane generations, what cruel action of mortal hands had driven them apart. Thanks to that, Coerthas' inhabitants believed to be attacked by 'pangolins' because of bare evilness.  
Letting rage consume him wasn't an option.  
“Hast thou regretted thy former title?” the Methuselah asked cautiously in order to not rip any wounds open. Alberic sighed with a depressing smile and shook the head: “I cannot change the past, so even if I felt regret, there's nothing I could do about it. There's only one kind of remorse... Sorrow for being unable to save Estinien's family. In some way, he's like a biological son for me, which makes me suffer under his own agony. … It made me unspeakable happy when he accepted Cecilia as a real friend.”  
Unsure – since he didn't feel like it was his right – Midgardsormr uttered only hesitantly the words which began to claw urgently into his antiquated mind: “The force which seems to connect them... The experience they shared... Why does she avoid her companion, when even I can see so clearly, that she yearns for the complete opposite?” Temporary, Alberic looked downhearted at the maiden, before he payed again attention to Midgardsormr.  
“She doesn't want to see once more, how Estinien becomes influenced by Nidhogg. As she is sure it's her fault that the wyrm manipulated him, she keeps our exhausting Elezen at bay. Of course everyone close to the Azure Knight could trigger an outburst and cede the Eye thus some control, but I must admit that Cecilia is indeed different. That's because of the burden which the two bear despite our traditions together. Albeit her part is not official... Something like their strong bond has in Ishgard's history never occurred so far. With that, she is afraid to practically sacrifice Estinien just for her decision that she won't fight like us.” the Lancer explained with sad eyes.  
Despite her refusal to kill dragons, the maiden held the Dragoon so dear in her heart...  
Midgardsormr had realized that already, yet the knowledge sounded now even more important...  
Carefully and even a little afraid, the disguised dragon asked: “Are Cecilia and Estinien... chained by destiny to each other? Are they soul-mates?” The old mortal studied him with a surprised mien. “In some way you could call them relatives...” ,Alberic began, “...but they are surely no lovers. Never were. Siblings – that's what they should be if the girl would not have lost her belief.”  
Looking at the floor, 'Midge' murmured: “This does not directly quieten my concern...”  
“Do you worry about being her boyfriend while somebody else could be that? Or is it rather, because that person could steal your place?” the attentive Lancer wondered. Scrutinizing him, Midgardsormr reflected for the blink of an eye on Alberic's question. “I do not fear this. At least not in aspects of jealousy or anxiety. She is not owned by me. But what I am truly afraid of... might be the possibility of breaking souls by watching their suffering. Instead of doing the right thing.”  
A shame for a once proud dragon to feel this way... Such empathy... He became more like them; more like mortals... This vessel with its own knowledge was altering his consciousness.  
Folding the arms, Alberic stated smiling: “Just look at this intelligent, compassionate young man. Wouldn't have expected anything else from Cecilia's choice. ... May I ask you a favor? In case, naturally, that you haven't already set duties to fulfill. I don't want to steal your time.”  
Midgardsormr replied skeptical with a slight frown: “So far, I did not accept any requests for today. I had only planned to retrieve an optional piece of clothing at the manor before seeing what I could undertake this forenoon” “Ah, so you could lend me a hand if the job suits you.” the Lancer recognized gladly. Irritated by the man's joy, the disguised dragon nodded.  
“Okay, I would need someone who helps me carrying several weapons and training-objects from Ishgard to Camp Dragonhead.” ,Alberic explained, “I'm tasked to oversee today's training of a few new Dragoons, but the old equipment there isn't sufficient in my opinion. Of course I could teach the newcomers also in the Holy City, but I prefer the realistic environment in Central Coerthas. That's why I have to transport some stuff.”  
“All I have to do... is helping thee with the transport?” 'Midge' wondered. The Lancer nodded: “That's the basic, yes. Actually I need also somebody who helps me overseeing their doing, so that our equipment will be treated properly. But in case you don't like that, I'm not going to beg you for any further support than carrying the weapons.”  
Stepping to the cupboard, Midgardsormr reflected on this request. While he took an extra sweater and pulled it over his head, he was at first nervous to imagine so many skilled fiends of dragon-kind around himself. But on the other hand... When even Estinien couldn't recognize him as a 'pangolin', how large could the chance be to be identified by an amateur...  
Reluctantly, the dragon in disguise agreed: “I accept thy commission. But be warned... I posses none experience in taking care of anybody's weapon-exercises. Perhaps I will not see instantly when thy students damage thy equipment too much.” “That's fine. Four eyes notice still more than two. I'm anyways glad about your help. Thank you, Midge.” the Hyur responded smiling.  
Midgardsormr didn't know, if he could sympathize with this joy...

An intense sigh escaped the half-opened mouth.  
Carrying objects around – in his arms and on the shoulders – was more exhausting than expected. So this was one of the moments, which adventurers tended to despise at times... Miming a foot-boy. A pack-horse. No matter, how many objects Alberic himself carried as the employer, the frustration emerging in the Methuselah's brain was immense...  
Partly, he had to smother his draconic aggression as they reached Dragonhead's western entry. These sentinels here gave him cold as well as curious glances – a typical reaction saved for the majority of adventurers. Both men would probably not even make themselves useful, if he stumbled and injured himself with the weapons... An image that turned his stomach upside-down.  
Ignoring the knights, the disguised dragon reminded himself, that those swordsmen would at least offer support when it came to seriously casualties. Two of them had done so for Cecilia, after all, wherefore judging their professional-branch in general wasn't acceptable.  
As his feet dragged him right behind the Hyur through Dragonhead's northern gate, he could see Alberic's students: Four Elezen; young and motivated. Three tall men and one rather small woman. They wore the typical Dragoon-armor, albeit not as dark as Estinien's.  
“There, please put the equipment next to my disciples down.” the Lancer commanded.  
'Midge' felt relief to be finally able to get rid of the metallic weapons as well as the other supplies. Swaying and stretching the freed arms, he took a short break while the Dragoons sorted the objects. Then, he dutifully followed Alberic's plea to fetch together with him the Camp's striking-dummies. Fortunately the armory was located in their direct near – hence the Methuselah developed no optional frustration for carrying once more weighty stuff.  
After the training-objects had been employed, he decided ultimately to stay.  
Probably not the most clever move to spend time with sworn enemies, but a practical research.  
Under Alberic's advice the ancient existence handed specific lance-types over to the four Dragoons. They appeared friendly, yet he said barely a word to them. For Midgardsormr, even a good intention couldn't decrease the threat he felt. A new generation of dragon-slayers was unsettling to the point where an escape illustrated normally numeric inferiority. His vessel, though, demanded adaptions to whatever mortal life meant, so he was true to his words and stayed just as promised.

A while of motionless watching passed.  
To be honest, he felt out of place. Okay, maybe not completely useless... Thanks to his experience, the father of dragon-kind knew how to recognize rough blunders. To fight against mankind long, long ago had given him enough glimpses at their different combat-styles. If there would just not exist one single detail... Dragoons were the elite amongst Lancers. Even four newcomers featured more skills than the majority of people who had tried to kill the Methuselah. These Elezen here were virtuosos; in a 'pangolin's' opinion close to reaching Estinien's competence.  
Alberic, however, did see mistakes.  
While the old Hyur was busy to correct movement-sequences, 'Midge' scrutinized his very doing. Fascinating... This gentle man turned out to be an attentive, uncompromising teacher... Traceable, why he had once been an Azure Knight. In case of fighting, Alberic was a perfectionist led by definitive protective-instincts. THAT was Nidhogg's anchor in the Lancer's youth...  
Strange... Somehow, Midgardsormr began to marvel Alberic's abilities.  
Although it was hopeless to even try to keep up with him, the dragon wanted imitate this old master. Not for shedding more blood of his own kind, no... But for supporting the last remaining guardians of that Holy City, which was right now Cecilia's sanctuary. Only for the maiden's safety. Therefore, he focused his whole consciousness on the four Elezen; looking for finest mistakes.  
It was at first shyly, but 'Midge' started nevertheless to name suspected cases.  
He wasn't completely right with his guesses, though. Alberic explained, that specific movements would have been wrong in measure of old teachings, but in fact newer techniques did accept what the 'adventurer' expected to be wrong. This made Midgardsormr bite his tongue. Such a faux pas wasn't good... More of these missteps could reveal, that this vessel's owner was much older as all present mortals together... That had to be prevented at all costs.  
Once more the Methuselah fell silent for a moment. Analyzing the teacher's decisions precisely, slowly he got the hang of his job. The next few errors he counted were correct. While the Dragoons reacted surprised, Alberic was smirking about 'Midge's' keen eyes.  
“See? I told you four eyes are better than two.” ,the Hyur stated pleased, “But say, could you do me another favor? It's just this optional request, I promise. As soon as this task is over, your job won't be extended in any further way.” Not really delighted, the dragon caged in a mortal shell nodded.  
What was next on the list of tiresome things the former Azure Knight wanted him to do...?  
Mentioned chevalier replied happily: “Thank you! Well, one of the weapons we haven't used so far seems a bit rusty. I'm not sure, if we can practice with a questionable blade... Therefore I would really appreciate some tests. Surely I know you're not the type of adventurer who enjoys fighting, but... My old eyes can't handle anymore attacking plus coordinating my students, simultaneously. And since you're a gatherer, I suppose you won't make such a difference between scythe or lance.”  
Not waiting for a reaction, Alberic lifted the specific weapon from the floor.  
As the man offered him the metallic object, Midgardsormr hesitated to even grab it.  
Staring at the sharp edge made his stomach clench painfully. He couldn't... This was a weapon-type harming his kind since one-thousand years... A symbol of mortal's betrayal. What once used to fight side by side – completing the unity of dragon and rider – had merciless turned around and cut into the mount's flesh. Remembering this day caused a wave of agony. One of the rare occasions amongst his relatives; ruined by men... The bare memory of Ratatoskr’s death was suffocating.  
He squinted his eyes as the terror grabbed his heart.  
Entirely aware, that using this thing meant to do something his species despised, the discrepance between duty and pride could hardly be endured. If he abode by Hydaelyn's contract; his very oath, doing so turned him partly into a traitor even without fighting against another dragon...  
But he could hardly deny without giving a logical reason.  
Midgardsormr wasn't allowed to make men distrust him. Especially not those born to slay dragons. If they suspected him a single time of acting ominous, he wouldn't be able to fool them forever. Sooner or later, his secret might then slip through... That would be a death-penalty for his vessel. And maybe for his soul, too, since he wasn't sure if his remaining advantage of the Echo – to switch his spirit to another shape similar to rebirth – had been spared by the trade with Hydaelyn.  
Trembling, he reached out for the weapon.  
Over and over, he reminded himself to do this in the end for Cecilia. Though her friends had earned lately much more of his truthful sympathy... Still, with so much pressure rested on his shoulders, only she mattered to him. There was no noble excuse for his cheap behavior. Purposefully, he lived at the moment just for surviving – in order to see her beautiful smile again. To listen once more to the siren-song her voice made.  
Midgardsormr's gaze wandered up and down the weapon when it lay in his right hand.  
This object looked nagged like Alberic's lance... Well, it was a fitting thing for a battle-weary man. Or a dead-tired, antiquated dragon. The Methuselah could identify himself with the rusty thing. Albeit Her grace had given him a relatively young shape, his soul remained prehistoric and cynical. Old-fashioned in the worst way. There was no real gentleness.  
“Can you hit the dummy over there? It's the best choice for simple weapon-tests.” the teacher suggested friendly. 'Midge' gazed askance at the wooden object; suppressing the queasy feeling of his stirring stomach as good as possible. “Of course... As long as thou expect nothing fancy, I will examine the weapon's condition for thee.”  
His stilts brought him to the manikin.  
Every motivation for being useful, however, shrank to a minimum.  
Midgardsormr grabbed the lance with both hands – condemning himself to lose whatever pride might have remained despite all obstacles – and took position in front of the training-object.  
He made a handful of moves. They were nothing compared to the skilled Dragoons, yet he hoped these motions would suffice to spare him any other torture. The usage of the long weapon, at least, wasn't too awkward after several days of gathering. Similar to a scythe, like Alberic had stated correctly, the spiteful thing lay steady in his hands. Yet, though there was no clumsiness, the dragon was afraid to be in another way inept. Would he be able to hide, what he had seen in the past, and mimic only the current style of Lancers?  
Exhaling, the disguised dragon finished the test with one straight thrust.  
Afterwards he glimpsed immediately at the four Elezen. Thank goodness... They hadn't payed any attention to him in favor of their own doing. But Alberic's grey hawk-eyes had watched him intent. For an unknown reason, surprise dwelled in their expression. “A bit more, Midge. And if possible, with more strength.” the Hyur begged.  
Midgardsormr widened the eyes minimal. Bore down the red glow. He didn't like the worried sound which this man abruptly made... What had Alberic seen in his simple actions? There hadn't been continuing hints that talked louder than words – he was sure of it. But... A master of the lance possessed in this specific case more knowledge than an ancient being. So, perhaps the mortal COULD see the young vessel didn't match its owner's mental age...  
Teeth grinding under inner pressure, the Methuselah started anew.  
As he moved, Alberic was this time commenting on his doing: “Midge, more focus! … Faster! … Hit the dummy stronger! … Don't be afraid to overdo it! The lance must stand this or else we can't use it anymore! … You must put everything you got into the thrusts! Do it!”  
Frustration boiled underneath 'Midge's' skin. The stomach filled itself with anger; letting go of all concern towards his kind. What they might think, if they knew about his doing, lost all importance. In fact, every other unsettledness vanished, too, because of the silent realization to have probably ruined everything already.  
This here wasn't a weaponry-test... It was a possible proof of him being not what his form pretended to be. Therefore, no constriction was anymore necessary... Because Midgardsormr had nothing for convincing Alberic of the opposite, if skepticism became stronger than friendliness.  
Like a berserk he caved to desperation; Hydaelyn's first dragon chained to a humane form.  
The thoughts were channeled to the very bottom of his existence. Wrath and wildness. The lance in his hands reflected this. He made it hit the training-object like one might attack the worst enemy. Imprisoned by the terror of threatening failure; empowered via the aggressive commands. Midgardsormr almost lost control over his senses.  
“Very good! You can stop now.” suddenly Alberic called enthusiastic.  
Had this behavior perhaps not symbolized, that he saw through the lie...?  
Panting, the disguised dragon lowered his arms. The vessel's hands trembled a lot, whereby Midgardsormr could no longer hold the weapon. It slipped through his loose fingers and fell onto the ground. “I am sorry...” he apologized out of breath and bowed to get it back. This action made his brain dizzy... Squinting the eyes, he pulled the lance up ; shaking his head to clear it.  
“No need for apologies. At least not for you.” the old Lancer said gently and came to 'Midge's' side. Only now the Methuselah recognized, that all eyes lay on him. Both Hyur and the four Elezen beheld him with strange administration. Albeit he had since a while not allowed himself the luxury, the exhausted dragon made a bit room for his awful humor full of cynicism: “Was I so horrible... that thou art rather amused than crestfallen about my failure?”  
Alberic laughed lightly. “Hah, no, you weren't.” ,the Hyur stated and snickered a bit, “If anything, Midge, then I was horrible to push you so much. A gatherer is not used to stressful motions... Consideration for you would have been the right thing... I'm sorry for the recklessness... However, that's not want I want to tell you...” Raising the brows, Midgardsormr studied the embarrassed smile the Lancer gave him now.  
Was he missing something?  
If that was the case, then what might this be?  
'Midge' jerked slightly, when the man's hand patted his shoulder. Physical contact to mortals was still a problem... Even with Augustine touching him every evening – letting her aether flow through his back and arms in order to heal the lack of magic he had – the father of dragon-kind wanted to avoid even touches of the remaining Warriors.  
The Dragoon's mentor uttered with pure jollity: “You, my young friend, own a god-given talent. Such natural handling of the lance is rarely seen amongst amateurs. Because of this, I simply must use the chance and ask, if you would like me to train you as a Lancer.”  
Midgardsormr jerked in shock.  
“Wait – please do not judge rashly!” ,Alberic stated and patted anew, “Before you refuse overhasty: Of course Erik told me, that you're a peaceful man. But your abilities for a layman are amazing. Impressive, even! Also, it can't hurt to be able to protect yourself in case that's needed. Coerthas is, after all, a dangerous place for gatherers. Dravania even more. So, tell me: Do you accept?”  
Frowning anxiously, the dragon looked at the weapon in his hands.  
This cursed version of a blade should become a part of him? Of all things THIS stigma?  
As he stared at the lance, Cecilia's face appeared in his mind – reminding him of his earlier helpless to keep her save. In the end, her comatose condition was his fault. He had failed to protect what was precious to him... And if she should ever wake up again, every threat apart from his own species – that he did not want to harm just like she planned – would have its way with her if he rejected now.  
Forcing himself, his gaze returned to Alberic's face.  
“I will at least try it.” ,the dragon said with a heavy heart, “In case I won't match thy expectations, please show me another path to turn myself into a combatant. Should nothing change about the way I am now... I won't be able to help my allies in the future.”  
Even though he cared not too intense for the remaining Warriors and their comrades... it was true, that he felt the need to support them on their struggling way. And albeit his head was filled with frustration about the fact, that he once more had to bend down to mortal's rules... That his situation amongst mankind did never vary... The dragon knew he had to prevent their distrust at all costs.  
His one and only solution was to accept the altered fate Hydaelyn's help meant.  
“Okay... Yes, I promise we find in worst case another class for you.” ,Alberic nodded determined, “But I doubt this will be necessary. Even though I am not as young and merry as the guild-master yonder in Gridania, I don't stay behind my colleague. This old dog is still able to teach you a lot. Ergo: Raise your head up high, because we will turn your inborn talent into unforgettable skill!”  
The four Dragoons cheered loudly, before they returned to their training.  
Helpless, 'Midge' gave a weak smile when Alberic pressed a few Gil into his pocket.  
Batting one eye, the Midlander stated: “To make sure, that I won't forget your reward. After all, everything you did for me was generous and selfless. In other words, you are made of the material which caused Coerthas open nowadays its arms for adventurers. And I'm lucky to have recruited someone like you for the next Lancer-generation.”  
“I just hope thou art right about me...” the disguised dragon murmured worried.  
Alberic chuckled amused: “Heh, I'm sure of it. Now, let's start your training.”  
Once Erik knew about this, that awful man would blaze in contentment...


	13. Chapter 13

# Chapter Thirteen

His shoulders hurt.  
Even in the coldness they burned like fire.  
Breathing in, he swung his lance a few times before he stabbed out.  
Howbeit he was just since one day an official Lancer, 'Midge' had already practiced a lot under Alberic's dourly supervision. Until yesterday's dinner-time, the sympathetic but perfectionist Hyur was pushing Midgardsormr nonstop. To an extent, where attention for the four newcomer-Dragoons vanished almost into nothingness; caused by the man's grim eagerness to show his newest pupil as much as possible. Albeit the teaching-method was harsh and unforgiving... its effectiveness was undeniable. It utilized the whole body – and matched so the need of improvement.  
There was still a disadvantage... Thanks to this experience, sleeping last night in his usual arm-chair made the disguised dragon almost wish for giving in and resting by Cecilia's side... Laying down; stretching every limb out. Maybe placing his head next to the maiden's, so that the muted sound of her breath would sooth him... He had rejected the temptation, but was worried if the future could sooner or later change his mind...  
Today didn't differ much from before.  
Despite several tasks which prevented all teacher-activities, Alberic had already begged a colleague at Whitebrim to oversee in lieu of him 'Midge's' training. Mentioned man – an Elezen who worked these days in Central Coerthas' northern half – was like the famous Dragoon another former pupil. Not as narcissistic as Estinien, but similar cynical. Meeting him in the early morning didn't brighten Midgardsormr's conscience to be compelled to this unwanted carrier.  
Yet, a serious tutor who distracted the Methuselah was welcome.  
A fortiori his mind was focused, the less his aching heart consumed him.  
Following this philosophy, the ancient being did well behaved all exercises which were demanded. Seeking for the road of a serious guardian. One who was able to shield his most precious being. Though he couldn't deny, that his vessel wasn't ideal for diving headfirst into sportive activities...  
Noontime granted his tense muscles finally a break.  
Sighing, 'Midge' went into the building he was allowed to use for recreation, and took a seat.  
The food-box Erik had prepared for the dragon in the morning lay still untouched on the dinning-table in front of him. The simple memory of the Marauder's nasty grin made Midgardsormr shiver. Malicious joy had lurked underneath the innocent happiness about another 'proof' for Erik's theory... Tss, the Methuselah was not at all convinced of being a useful tool for ending the war between men and dragons... Even though he DID act as if he was on mortal's side, there was no way he would ever support any further slaying of his own kind. So, only Cecilia's candid path to seek for a peaceful solution possessed his complete acceptance.  
When Midgardsormr opened the box, muted steps distracted him.  
“Apologies to disturb you.” ,a shy voice reached his ears, “I was asked to bring you a warm meal. Erik paused his current job despite the trouble it caused for him in order to optimize your lunch.” Looking up, he watched as Tataru placed a box similar to the one he got onto the desk. “Thy gesture is welcome... I thank thee.” His words made her smile in jollity.  
Before 'Midge' was able to, the Lalafell opened swiftly the cap; showcasing a large portion of steaming stew. Albeit he was sure the sandwiches in the other box would suffice, his growling stomach seemed to have its own opinion. But there was even more than just this...  
“I hope the dessert will be fine... I made the vanilla-pudding and chocolate-sauce myself, you know. Although we're not knowing each other for a long while, I feel like the two of us share the liking for sweet dishes.” the Scion's secretary explained giggling.  
Midgardsormr didn't know how to handle this sign of consideration solely meant for him.  
Especially not, after he had once uncovered his fangs with a hiss when Tataru was trying to pat him. Ready to bite her just because she had only a friendly gesture in mind... But she wasn't connecting this memory with the man next to her. Officially, Cecilia's favorite dragon-puppet had always been nothing else than a lovely toy. And with the maiden being unconscious, the doll's nonstop absence made sense for the Lalafell, as none other could summon the archmage's belongings.  
It would only confuse Tataru if he acted now... strange. Therefore, he accepted the gift politely: “This is very generous of thee. It will be a pleasure to eat thy present.” Jolly, the motherly Lalafell – for her kind probably a very small lady – nodded with a bright grin: “Hehe, good to hear you like it! You know, I was worried if the dessert wouldn't be appropriate. Since, uhm, you seem always so uncomfortable around strangers.”  
Raising the brows in confusion, Midgardsormr couldn't help but let the mask of seriousness slip minimal down: “How come thou art able to see this?” “Maybe a woman's intuition.” ,she replied, “Albeit I got some help. It's so... Edgar acts similar awkward towards foreigners – and just like you, he demonstrates a big heart once he got to know someone. Doesn't matter, that only Ceci is allowed to ride him. He is a cute birdie who reserves true friendliness for his favorites, while others just get to see politeness. And so are you.”  
Midgardsormr smiled embarrassed. This secretary was an attentive mortal. She was much smarter, than others might think via first impressions. Her strength was definitely not combat but socializing. With less discomfort in his chest he noticed chuckling: “There is one detail I would like to add... The Chocobo is quite possessive in consideration of his master. Jealous, so to speak... A direful trait I hope to not possess.”  
While he started to eat the stew with an ordinary spoon, Tataru took a seat on the table's other side. “I think it's normal to experience jealousy.” ,the Lalafell stated, “At least when something is really dear to the heart. Edgar simply feels what he feels plus acts the way his feelings tell him to express. If his behavior puts pressure on you because you fear to resemble the birdie... You shouldn't be too strict with yourself. Also, don't forget that your situation isn't normal. While you're all the time worried about Cecilia's state of health, extra possessiveness would be logical.”  
Chewing easygoing down, 'Midge' grinned boldly. “Thou art truly comparing me to a Chocobo... Does this ridiculousness mean, that thou won't treat me anymore like a hero?” “U-Uhm, no! Well, ehrm, I mean... That's a bit difficult to explain... Ahem...” the Lalafell stuttered perplexed. “It's fine, do not worry.” ,he cut her short with an amused mien, “My execrable humor was overwhelming me for a moment... Apologies. But if I am allowed to utter something honestly... I prefer to be no hero in the eyes of people. I want to be treated like a normal man. Nothing special; nothing worthless. Just... another adventurer.”  
The Lalafell studied him curious with these big amethyst-eyes. “How come you find it necessary to insist on normality?” ,she asked patiently, “Does our attention scare you? Because you think that you did only something everybody else would have done for Ceci? And does it make you nervous to work suddenly together with strangers? In a foreign place, above all?”  
Slightly, he laughed – relaxed by her observation-skills. “Thou art correct. I am no hero for doing just the right thing. And having to adjust to this land appears occasionally to be impossible for me. Thus, I am unsettled and would prefer less attention.” Scratching her right ear, Tataru questioned: “But when you don't like it, why do you even stay with us in Coerthas? Do any of Ul'Dah's hideous bounty-hunter threaten you just the way they are strengthening as us? After all, you're a gatherer who seems to prefer a warm environment.”  
“If it was for myself, probably I would decide indeed to follow another path than thou all art doing.” ,the dragon admitted, “But I have no decision to make; to begin with an answer to thy question. There is not such a thing like a choice for me. The place where I stay is set in stone.” The amethyst-eyes made a dreamily expression as their owner listened to him. “Aww, you really are a sweetheart! I'm really glad Ceci found one so loyal.” the Lalafell hummed widely beaming.  
Midgardsormr gave also a smile, before he continued eating.  
It was odd to think that, but... He grew fond of this Lalafell. Not like Cecilia thought of Alphinaud, of course... Yet, it was enough to honestly enjoy her presence. Her petite shape was ironically soothing his draconic instincts; the gentle friendliness of hers not as aggressive as the admiration of Ishgard's most simple inhabitants. She was in her own way very sensitive plus clearly smart – deserving the position of a favorite non-adventurer.  
Hah... Another moment Cecilia's opinion about dragons preferring female mortals was correct.  
He couldn't help but smirk unrecognizable about that.  
When only the dessert was left, he took under notedly observant gazes of the secretary the first bite. His eyes widened while his throat swallowed the soft vanilla-chocolate-mix, which his tongue gave only unwilling away, down. “Delicious...” he stated – surprised, how good Tataru's pudding tasted. It reminded him of the day Cecilia had shared such a thing with him; the hilarious little dragon... They had just begun to get emotionally closer back then... To become friends...  
Shaking the melancholy off, 'Midge' added: “Thy dessert tastes wonderful.” The Lalafell blushed and stared at the table. “It's a recipe my mom used to cook for me when I was a child.” she said with sparkling eyes. A soft smile flitted over the corners of his mouth. “Thy mother must have been doing a good job when she is able to cook like this.” “Th-Thank you! And yes, she was in the best possible way taking care of me. I hope to be like that one day.” the secretary uttered grinning. Closing the lids as his lips went further up, Midgardsormr stated confident: “I am sure thou will follow thy mother's example as soon as thou hast an own child.”  
“What about you? Do you want kids?” Tataru asked casually. Pressing the lids against each other, 'Midge' felt like telling a lie when he replied short-spoken: “I am undecided at the moment... Apologies for my boring response.” Midgardsormr wished to not have to conceal, that he knew how taking care of children felt like... Denying, that he was already a father – and even a grandfather – cut in these moments amongst mankind deeply into his chest...  
“That's totally fine. Don't worry.” ,the Lalafell said understanding, “You're younger than me – and so is Ceci, too. No need to rush things.” Looking at Tataru, he furrowed his brows in confusion when a malicious smile appeared on her face. The secretary's voice possessed a sweet vibe while she uttered her notion: “BUT I must say: The two of you would really have cute babies.”  
His cheeks heated instantly, so he gazed to the ground. “Thou art making fun of me...” he muttered while she laughed amused about his reaction. Just the bare imagination was bad for his vessel... Uncontrollable, it twitched in abashment and forbidden approval... The father of dragon-kind needed a moment to calm himself before he could eat the very last bites; glad when Tataru changed the topic to something trivial.

Breathing thin air was for mortal lungs troublesome...  
This was a harsh lesson to learn. Same counted for unusual high; it hurt the brain.  
Yet, this was not the most wondrous part about today. Who would have thought, that minor progress of another three days in purest torture turned him already into material worth of visiting Abalathia... Worth to mime a bodyguard... Of course he was not the only one protecting the orderer. Merely, 'Midge' was meant to be an assistant for the true sentinel. But he couldn't overlook the fact, that even mortals wouldn't foolishly send an amateur into the territory of a beast-tribe.  
Gazing skeptical around, he gripped the lance in his hands tighter.  
“A little nervous today?” his ally called without a tremor. 'Midge' couldn't help but snort reflexively. He didn't like that arrogance; no matter how used he was to this trait... A part of him wished it wouldn't be Estinien who had decided to come with them... Another part, however, was glad about the skilled cynic... Before he decided to reply something, the client was quicker: “You should share his caution. Midge doesn't take this lightly. Other than you, he demonstrates the right behavior.”  
“Who says I wouldn't act observantly? At least none of MY equipment was stolen. Thinking of it... Why didn't you engineers recognize these chubby, flightless birds? Their steps aren't very graceful.” the Elezen countered calmly. “The Vanu own flying mounts. They do not need to walk around for playing thieves.” ,Cid grumbled with that wolf-like presence, “Also, we all were doing our job! Ishgard's airship takes lots of time and concentration--- I doubt a blockhead like you can understand how difficult your Protector truly is. Anyways, we engineers are also just humans. We can't notice everything that happens in our surroundings.”  
Estinien shrugged and walked ahead. “Whatever you say. My vocational field has nothing to do with screws and wires, so save your breath.” This stoical behavior made the Hyur sigh intensely. “Be glad he's here... Be glad he's here... Pfft, the hell I will.” the bearded man grumbled muted. 'Midge' gave a restrained grin to watch this. Together with Cid he kept after the Azure Knight; chuckling lowly when the engineer clenched the fists.  
So strange... So unbelievable hilarious... Originally, Midgardsormr had been jealous of this man for holding a big piece of the maiden's affection. Almost as much as in case of her favorite, Alphinaud, the evil feeling was burning in the dragon-father's chest just by watching the Raen interact with Cid. But now, caged in this mortal vessel... The Methuselah felt rather content than unsettled. He was surprisingly glad to have this person in his near. Who would have thought, that an ancient dragon could so easily be influenced by just a handful of similarities...  
“How are Ceci and Erik able to endure him?” ,the wolf-like face came closer to 'Midge's' right ear, “If he acted more self-regarding plus crazy, he wouldn't contrast strongly with my rival Nero...” Gazing slightly puzzled at the engineer, the Methuselah stated: “I have sadly no knowledge about thy competitor... Yet, I probably know how thou art feeling. My sincere sympathies.”  
That was something they had definitely in common. Deep aversion for rough, mannerless people... The disguised dragon jerked a little in the second Cid patted his right shoulder. “You're a good guy, Midge. Don't let Estinien's cynicism ruin your mood.” the Hyur uttered smiling. Mentioned man interrupted them right afterwards: “Wait with your private talk until we are done here. Looks like getting the equipment back won't be so easy.”  
The Dragoon’s words were slightly understated. When Midgardsormr and Cid reached their ally, they were able to behold a big group of Vanu – patrolling dutiful through the bird's settlement. Although their motions resembled even now dancing, the tribesmen were still serious enemies.  
“How can we avoid them? Only the three of us won't be able to fight so many foes... There might be even more Vanu in case not all are at home... And I really do not want to ask Laniaitte for sending her Rose Knights just for getting my stuff back...” the bearded man thought loudly.  
Good question... What would be an appropriate plan...  
Folding the arms, Estinien glanced at 'Midge'. “Hey, Loverboy.”  
What a disgusting nickname... Typical... Shoulders stiffening, the Methuselah looked at the Elezen. As Midgardsormr braced himself in expectation of being criticized, it felt like the Dragoon's severe eyes were choking him – in spite of the black helmet which should technically lessen the effect.  
Estinien's voice was on the contrary oddly calm: “I'm actually surprised, that Alberic was willing to accept a pupil who's starting practically on Level Zero. Normally, my former mentor works only with Lancers who already know by experience how the job has to be done. It makes him uneasy when unacquainted persons try to fit in Coerthas' duties – old as he is, he can't babysit others. So, you must be something special when Alberic insisted on turning you into one of us.”  
Hearing these words made the dragon's stomach stir in nervousness.  
Inhaling, Midgardsormr asked as apathetic as possible: “What do thou want to imply?”  
“You're able to fight. And even as a brassy Lancer, you can dodge via jumping. If only you and me fetch the toolboxes, our chances are much higher to get out of this mess without additional risks.” the Azure Knight suggested severely. Raising his brows, the Methuselah stared abashed at Estinien. Was his mortal shell in the eyes of the most superior Dragoon truly competent enough to keep up? This excuse of a body should already suffice for something real adventurers did every day?  
Midgardsormr hesitated to voice his opinion. Cid, meanwhile, wasn't convinced: “But three men are stronger than two. And albeit Midge is Cecilia's boyfriend, he's still not as used to fighting as she is. His profession is gathering, forgotten? You can't expect from him to mirror your motions.”  
“Doubting Alberic's judgement?” ,the armored Elezen snapped, “He trusts Midge's abilities already enough to let him visit the Sea of Clouds! That's more meaningful than it initially seems to be. Also, what do YOU exactly plan to do? Stabbing the birds with your funny little tools? Screwdriver and -wrench may scare machines, but surely no Vanu.”  
Cid ground the teeth loudly. “Before you pigheaded fellow offend me again... Fine! I trust Midge, so if he says your risky maneuver is okay for him, I'm on his side. But don't dare to put any pressure onto his shoulders in case he's not ready for such suicidal undertakings!” The Azure Knight harrumphed loudly; ready to strike back. In order to avoid more arguments as well as loss of time, the disguised dragon stated pacifying: “We will try to regain the tools just as Estinien has suggested. Probably my skills are not much of a help, but it is true that I am already able to dodge in a way akin to Dragoons. If we are fast, there aren't many risks.”  
A satisfied grin appeared under the black helmet, while the mien behind that beard seemed nervous. “Watch out when you infiltrate the settlement. Don't act careless, Midge...” Cid mumbled worried while Estinien was already preparing to get started. “Keh, he'll be fine. Don't treat him as if he was a chicken and you his mother-hen.” the Azure Knight rebuked him with a sharp pitch in the voice.  
Snickering under his breath because the mortal's shenanigans tickled his bad sense of humor, Midgardsormr told the Hyur nevertheless with a grateful smile: “Do not pay any attention to him... Thy care is truthfully more than welcome. I thank thee.” The wolf-like face became brighter; smiling sympathetic with daredevil eyes in sky-blue color.  
“Let's go, Loverboy. Follow my lead.” the Dragoon called and jumped off.

Squinting the left eyelid, 'Midge' squeezed his right shoulder.  
Its muscles hurt; partly the bones beneath as well. Getting Cid's stolen gear back hadn't been easy... To fight several Vanu – all of them much stronger than his mortal vessel – was a new experience which the Methuselah could easily have dropped per will. If his legs wouldn't manage to throw him a few meters away if needed, the battle would have probably ended horrible for him...  
But at least the goal was accomplished.  
Together with Estinien, he had reconquered the tools for their rightful owner. Unwilling to cause optional trouble, however, the dragon lied to Cid when the engineer asked him about his injuries. Therefore, on the way back to Camp Cloudtop, 'Midge' had slightly to pay for his indirect pacifism. He needed to endure the ache no matter its intensity... Plus, the dragon couldn't use both hands, so the toolbox which he carried was solely held by his unconfined left hand. But knowing Augustine, she would later take care of it, thus all he needed was patience...  
Returning to the Camp, Cid had begged both fighters to stay just in case for a while. To remain in Abalathia until he would be done, so that they could return together to Ishgard. Albeit the dragon would rather leave now, it wasn't his intention to reveal his true condition... Hence, he had accepted and leaned now against a fence. Waiting – to a great extent motionless – with the Azure Knight for the bearded man to complete the current work.  
To the left of the Methuselah, Estinien snorted lowly.  
“You have overdone it. These attacks of yours were too eager.” the Elezen stated after 'Midge' was once more rubbing his shoulder. With an exiguous smile on the lips, Midgardsormr shook his head. “I don't feel this way. Rather, I presume our opponents have still been too powerful for me. Although I presume thou didn't find it hard to fight them...”  
The Azure Knight gave an empty laugh: “Sorry to disillusion you, but a) I had trouble just like you and b) you're much stronger than you think. If you had acted like a coward instead of a brave guy, you would be in a better condition. That's for sure. … Your hits are serious stuff. If you overdo it, the result is what you got right now.”  
Watching, how Cid and Ishgard's engineers optimized the Protector, Midgardsormr asked: “Thou art respectively used to such battles? Fights which require perfect endurance?” The Dragoon sighed before he replied: “I am used to keeping my problems to myself. When I decide to let others not see through my facade, the thing is waterproofed. … If you plan to obtain this talent as well, make sure to not touch the hurting body-parts as long as others are around. Doing so reveals your weakness to attentive people. Even simple rubbing is suspicious.”  
The disguised dragon nodded slightly, although he bore a chuckle down.  
Perhaps he hadn't been able to hide his physical agony, but in return Estinien was failing to notice what the Hyur next to him truthfully was. Unable to realize, that a dragon took next to him a break. So far, the gift of Her grace was indeed sufficient to walk unnoticed amongst mankind...  
Both males kept quiet for the next minutes.  
Despite the hurting shoulder, 'Midge' felt alright to be here.  
His body was acclimating to the thin air; general cool temperature under warming sunbeams acceptable for his skin. A little bit he was tempted to doze for a while... Since the engineers didn't do many fascinating things and no beasts attacked, the moment was entirely peaceful. Perhaps, calling it a day when they returned later to the Holy City would be a good idea...  
A harsh sting in the back of his head made him twitch.  
The unpleasant feeling shook all his senses, thus woke him entirely up. Glancing to the left, Midgardsormr knew what it was even without seeing the cause for his malaise... The Eye. Nidhogg's body-part; hidden in Estinien's armor. Impalpably emitting energy. As another dragon, the Methuselah was nevertheless able to sense the hidden orb – as the first exemplar of his species, he felt its activities even when they were suppressed.  
Probably... this was an attempt to manipulate the Azure Dragoon.  
Mentioned Elezen, however, demonstrated a cold shoulder towards the influence.  
Every pulse of energy deflected off the man just like words normally did. There wasn't even a special reaction... Studying him, Midgardsormr was surprised how little the Dragoon's breath hitched under the mental pressure. Additional, the folded arms tightened only minimal.  
Interesting... Since normal people weren't able to sense the Eye, these little signs which revealed Estinien's pain would never betray him. With that, the mortal was true to his speech of not letting other people recognize how he felt. … How much willpower might this consume...? Furthermore, did the man experience loneliness in the second he suffered on his own...?  
“You look unsettled. Something wrong?” the Azure Knight asked skeptical – glancing at 'Midge' from the corners of his sharp sapphire-eyes. The disguised being shook his head and turned the gaze as casual as possible away. If the Elezen ever realized, that Alberic's newest pupil could feel the Eye's activities, this might cause trouble. Also, Estinien didn't want others to see his burden – something the dragon had to respect. Every creature on Hydaelyn was born with the right to conceal whatever it wanted to hide from the world.  
'Thou hast become weak, father.'  
Midgardsormr widened the lids while his shoulders tensed painfully.  
This voice... Was he hallucinating? … No, impossible... So this meant...  
'Surprised about my skill to reach thee? It's been a while since we saw each other for the last time... Of course I became stronger. One-thousand years of war allowed me to strengthen both my physical AND mental abilities. It just took some time to figure unambiguously out, that this strange mortal were nobody else but thou.'  
Forcing his lungs to keep their pace low to not warn Estinien, the Methuselah answered telepathic: 'I am rather surprised thou find it necessary to converse with me. If I am not mistaken, thou art holding a grudge against my decisions since the day Ratatoskr died through mortal hands.'  
A dark snicker filled Midgardsormr's mind. 'Comprehensive as always... Yes, thou art indeed right... I shouldn't talk to thee. The one who endlessly watches cold-hearted the suffering of his own kind... But thou art alive. Thy body became a lifeless remnant, yet thou still exist. And even I can allow myself sometimes a little sentimentality. Thou art my father, after all.'  
Midgardsormr sighed lowly: 'And thou art my son... I just wish my own flesh and blood would not be consumed by hatred... Not enslaved by revenge...' There was a wave of wonderment circulating from the Eye into his corpus. 'Thou experience regret? Grief...? There would be no need for this if thy decision would change... Join me and we punish mankind together. I am sure thou would feel the same satisfaction as I will.' Hope dwelled through Nidhogg's voice. The wyrm wanted to fight side by side... An honest wish; as pure as one so ruined by vengeance could be...  
Squinting the eyes, the ancient dragon refused under distinct agony his offspring's suggestion.  
'Thou know I will not participate in thy fell plan. As much as I want Ishgard to burn... To bleed and rotten and despair as much as we did... I have sworn to not harm Hydaelyn's children. This promise wasn't broken in the last millennium. And I intend to not change that.'  
Nidhogg hissed: 'If thou would just be satisfied with watching me... thy personal activities weren't such a problem. Yet, as thou deny both – helping thy own brood as well as preferring our side... Thou art putting guilt onto thy shoulders. And to accompany some humans for peaceful measures makes it even worse... Thou commit a sin.'  
Midgardsormr gave a deep growl into the mental connection. 'Thou judge thy first's wish for finding a solution that does not shed more of our blood? Thou thinkest safety means nothing to thy sire?!'  
His son's following snarl was just half-hearted. Yet, Nidhogg kept the strong rebellious mind up: 'Our Primogenitor commands me to entrust him with our fate, albeit thy contract with Hydaelyn does not protect us? Apologies, but looking at thy favorite mortal, we are better off without relaying on Her grace. She would even let one of her chosen children die.'  
The insult was too much.  
Full of rage, Midgardsormr let his mind roar loudly.  
His outburst suppressed Nidhogg's mental energy almost; nearly breaking the faint connection. Only because he cared for his child, the first dragon was not cutting short their conversation. Yet... When Midgardsormr realized, that he still overpowered his offspring's mental strength despite physical limitations, his telepathic noise faded.  
Their situation was so strange... This remaining force within the Hyur-vessel was unexpected. Actually, its telepathy-ability was that, too... In secret, his left power surprised the Methuselah... Wonderment made the dragon-father silent to the point where his child regained its bravery.  
'Thou art seemingly irate when I speak of Hydaelyn's failure.' ,the dark wyrm warily stated instead of asking, 'But there's more than only thy blind loyalty to Her grace which makes thee aggressive... I am not allowed to mention this mortal thou art holding dear.'  
The Eye emitted frustration when Midgardsormr ignored these provoking words. Or rather, when the Primogenitor pretended to not care. His blood was in truth boiling with aggression.  
Cursed...!  
Of course his son already knew about Cecilia... Thinking of hiding all affection towards her from the revenge-consumed child had been a foolish thing to do. After all, Estinien carried a window which allowed Nidhogg to see the Au Ra whenever her stoic friend did. There weren't many details the dark wyrm needed to know in order to realize, that the contract with Her grace was clearly not the only thing which bound Midgardsormr to this one chosen.  
Silence filled the space between both dragons. Meanwhile, all the mortals around them continued whatever they were doing. Unaware of the threat looming over their heads. Even Estinien's rude, but peaceful yawn gave the impression of innocence. Enviable.  
After a few moments passed, Nidhogg tried anew to taunt or provoke the First: 'To whom art thou pledging true allegiance? The Mothercrystal or this girl?' Not feeling like even considering a reply, Midgardsormr lowered the lids of his mortal shell. It took lots of control to suppress the red glow in his gaze. A weary sigh coming from the other mind truly irritated him. 'There is no correct answer in my opinion, father. Feel free to be honest.' his son added hesitantly.  
The dragon-father couldn't help but giving a low huff from the mortal lips.  
'If my choice does not matter, why hast thou nothing better to do than questioning me?'  
Keeping his voice calm was quite difficult... He could hardly not snap at his child. Nidhogg seemed to be aware of this, because he grumbled lowly: 'There had been once a time when thou possessed far more patience with thy descendants... I simply ask because I want to know at least for whom thou art betraying thy kind these days. An uncaring deity or a hopeless dreamer.'  
Tss... No answer would suffice. As Midgardsormr was torn between both liability and admiration, he would either way lie to his son. Above all, he was still fearing what might happen if he voiced the feelings for the maiden in front of his child. Nidhogg's brood would instantly crush the favorite of their grandfather in order to punish the half-betrayal. The same counted certainly all the more for the grandchildren's sire who dared to challenge their Primogenitor.  
'Such accusation... My father's favorite won't die by my claws as long as she stays away from me. Why art thou thinking I would hunt a human who is not one of Ishgard's bloodline?'  
These words filled with indignation about Midgardsormr's distrust were surprising... Long ago, Nidhogg had always been like this. When those who belonged to his family doubted his good will, he sulked and complained. This behavior meant, that the dark wyrm was honest to them.  
On the other hand, it was disturbing how much he could comprehend his father's thoughts.  
The First growled: 'Thou destroy all mortals who fight not on thy side. Who do not become weredragons sooner or later. I cannot and won't believe thy promising words.' 'And still thou should. This girl never shed our blood. Of course I will rip her apart if she comes to me, but on the distance I show mercy because this one does not kill us. For being thy favorite, I shall additionally not allow my brood to harm her.' the wyrm stated in a manner which resembled Estinien's stubborn mind.  
Midgardsormr faltered to trust Nidhogg.  
But his son was quick in making him change his mind with a few last words: 'We dragons don't lie. I will not lower myself to mortal standards. So believe into my promise... If one of us ends her life, it will only be me. Thy favorite is my very own prey. Father, I do not let any other of our kind have the pleasure to break her body and taste her curdling blood.'  
Egoism almost as cruel as mortal hearts.  
Judgment tainted by hatred worse than humane honor.  
Fear made Midgardsormr shiver when the mental connection was gone. Albeit Estinien's steely eyes with their sapphire hue were watching in bewilderment, 'Midge' gripped his vessel's chest. Breathing irregular since the heart under his hand pounded with uneven beats.

There was slight distraction from Nidhogg's words as the three returned to Ishgard.  
Back at the Machinist-guild, a tense Alphinaud waited together with Tataru for them; a relaxed Erik also present. It was rare to see the teenager rather speechless, but he had indeed trouble to explain the newest happening. But while the young scholar spoke in shaky manner, Midgardsormr found it soon easy to grasp this distressed behavior.  
Somehow, Alphinaud and Tataru had provoked the Inquisitors too much. Their desire to learn more about Ishgard had become suspicious to the point where they created a serious reason to distrust both Elezen and Lalafell. With that, the two had been accused of hurting the law – and a tribunal was the only adequate instance in charge of their fate.  
Of course Tataru wasn't able to fight for herself. Not even carbuncles followed the Lalafell's orders, thus the laws gave her the chance to chose somebody to battle in lieu of her. Erik had been around as the only Warrior of Light – and demonstrated eagerness to help his friends, so it was him who joined Alphinaud at the tribunal. The Marauder and teenager were victorious, whereby both bearers of pointed ears turned out to be – according to Halone's teachings – innocent.  
Listening to their story, Midgardsormr realized something. Probably not for the first time, but only now he truly understood, how important the ability of fighting was. Even though he was currently for sure unable to beat any strong knights – mortals who were above all much smarter than Vanu... In the end, even the weakest skill was better than none. He was limited due to lacking magic or rather aether, but still he could protect himself. And the Methuselah had at all costs to make sure, that this didn't change. Even more: Hydaelyn's mortal vessel needed to become stronger. Thus – instead of calling it a day – he would have to train until dinner-time drew close.  
Tataru seemed to notice his decision.  
Later, in the evening, the Lalafell picked him up when he wanted to go back to Fortemps' manor – after Augustine's usual treatment was over. Walking by his side, the secretary told 'Midge' to be glad how much he trained. She could only be depressed by her inability to fight, while his strong will made her very proud. He was compensating his insufficient magic by physical skill, while she possessed hardly the precision for handling a sword.  
Emphatic, he emphasized for Tataru, that her strength originated from being a good mental support, so there was no need for feeling this way. Following, she smiled and mentioned her wish to become nevertheless one day a strong Arcanist; one who was not only good in throwing Miasma and Ruin, but who could also control her carbuncle. As a secretary, mathematics were a child's play for her – thus Tataru was able to use all basic-spells without problems. There existed plenty of aether to use; other than in 'Midge's' case. She only needed to manage the class' willpower-aspects.  
The dragon-father experienced happiness to hear this. With that, his lightened mood made him joke about his weakness to be not even able to create the tiniest flame. Tataru stated laughing, how hilarious the two of them were together, and suggested some harmless gambling. She would cook and bake one week for him if the 'Hyur' managed to use a spell successfully, but if her carbuncle should one-hundred percent listen to the Lalafell before he was done, 'Midge' would for said week become her personal mount.  
The Methuselah grinned while he noticed, how unfair the deal was, but the secretary countered nonchalantly, that she wasn't worse than Ul'Dah's businessmen. He couldn't help but chuckle about her cheeky expression, when she compared herself following with Lolorito.

An intense huff left his lips.  
If his shape wouldn't be mortal, he would have preferred spitting fire somewhere...  
'Midge's' head rested on his folded arms while he turned his gaze to the unconscious maiden. Watching Cecilia had always a calming effect on him, but simultaneously the Methuselah was afraid of losing her if she should ever wake up again. He knew the Raen was drawn to her friends no matter the general circumstances, so Estinien would sooner or later surely lead her to Nidhogg; be it per will or because she felt the need to protect him.  
The ancient being buried his face into the mattress when his son's promise rang loudly in his brain. His knees pressed against each other as he sat stiffening on his feet; starting to entirely shiver because of the knowledge how serious the dark wyrm was to reserve Cecilia for his very own claws. The Au Ra was unmistakably destined to meet Nidhogg... If she regained ever her consciousness, there existed no possibility to avoid this...  
While 'Midge' had still spent some minutes with Tataru in the villa, he was keeping the anxiety with pure force far away from his thoughts... But now, the sentiment was flooding his mind unstoppable. Crushing into his complete awareness... Ready to tear him apart...  
The wet eyes searched once more for Cecilia's peaceful mien; minimal flickering like fire and therefore not having a clear vision. He was desperate to haven't heard her voice since eighteen days. Nineteen, in case he considered today... The helplessness was consuming him whenever he began to count time like mortals did. When he acted like a human – caught in their idea of the flow of life – Midgardsormr felt all the more how much it hurt to be without her.  
There were bright moments which erased the abyss entirely, though. Minutes that made him feel close to the maiden; let him see the world from her point of view. Made him an adventurer like her. Whenever his skills were good enough to complete a quest properly, the joy she must experience in these activities rushed through his veins. And the smile which people gave him in return for undertaking a solid job reminded him of her shining grin.  
Hesitantly touching Cecilia's left hand, 'Midge' knew the simpleness of an adventurer's life was what he wanted to share with the precious maiden. Midgardsormr didn't care for earning money – there was for him no need to spend it apart from buying nutriment and borrowing at times mounts – but helping humans was something he truthfully began to enjoy. It was surely for the mortal vessel, that his thoughts were altered so drastically, but it couldn't be helped anymore...  
Her grace had blessed him with the possibility to see for himself, how mortals might feel and act, thus he wouldn't dare to refuse this chance.  
Leaning his cheek against this soft hand; inhaling the maiden's flowery scent, he was grateful for Hydaelyn's decision to give him a shape that lasted longer than a single day. Even while this shell was nevertheless rotting around his soul until it grew old and died... Even while the dragon-father didn't think he would be able to use the Echo's transcendence into another body... Even if there might not even be a chance for him to be reborn... Midgardsormr was still here. Now. In the present. This was all what mattered. And he wanted to be by Cecilia's side if she woke up ever again. Wanted to be there in case she and Nidhogg should ever meet each other.  
He closed the eyes as his face hid itself in her hand. Maybe... for tonight he could allow himself – just like his son did before – one small weakness... The Methuselah wouldn't sleep in her bed while his spirit possessed this mortal shape. Wouldn't rest here without her approval, but perhaps... Perhaps being like this for once was acceptable without breaking politeness and honor. Just a bit... Just a bit closeness to her like the very last nights had been before she fell into this coma...  
He wouldn't yearn for more contact than the feeling of her hand on his skin, although he missed Cecilia's hugging all over his hilarious corpus of a baby-dragon... The way she showed him openly true affection... But anyways, everything he needed was to feel her warmth. Only a little bit...  
Tears streamed from his shut eyes as the memory of her embrace guided him into sleep.

The ancient existence dreamed.  
Leathery wings spread into the evening-sky; carrying him through rosy clouds.  
His corpus was huge and serpentine; these four legs almost unnoticeable in the air.  
Underneath him, the planet's most beautiful continent unfolded. Although Eorzea lay practically to the dragon's very feet, he had no eyes for it. There was something else that had caught his gaze... Someone. A presence he had only seen for a single time in his everlasting life...  
Midgardsormr was dazzled when the memory gripped his heart.  
This being had once guided him to this world; long ago. Helping him and his unborn children...  
A tear of joy glided over the dragon-father's cheek while he couldn't help but stare at his fellow.  
The heavenly existence flew in gentle circles around him as it watched the land beneath the clouds. White wings losing sometimes one or two feathers; a fluffy tail stirring in the breeze. Silvery claws shining under the sunlight at the edges of all four limbs. Its body owned no scales but fur and resembled rather a wyvern instead of a wyrm... Smaller plus shorter than Midgardsormr's current, full-grown form; matching the seize of his younger self... Yet, this shape was prettier than anything as well as everyone else blessed with immortality... Such charming appearance he loved to study...  
The creature looked suddenly at him.  
Oh, what embarrassment he experienced when a gentle growl rolled its throat...  
Midgardsormr had forgotten, how fascinated he had been on this far away day... No, not forgotten. He had suppressed the memory. Because the secret feeling towards the stranger was back then hunting him... Adoring another immortal wasn't criminal, but his futile magnetism towards this one had to be stopped... The beautiful traveler belonged to a world dimensions away from Hydaelyn; there was no possibility to stay. Also, it helped him only because of pity – nothing more. So when his savior was gone, Midgardsormr's soon darkened mood only threatened to interfere with his fatherly duties... With that, the Methuselah had step by step forced himself to let go.  
The pretty illusion next to him was the first time in millenniums he thought again of his savior.  
Watching its graceful motions, the dragon wondered why he was even dreaming about the foreigner. As it drifted down – closer to the ground – Midgardsormr questioned his subconsciousness. Cecilia's coma DID unmistakably tear at his mental stability, but was this truly enough to reawaken an old loneliness which hadn't befallen him since ages...?  
The Methuselah followed the heavenly creature.  
It hovered over a lake – HIS lake. That place he used to call home... The water looked just like in the days before the Garleans attacked years ago; free from corrupted crystals and full of nature. Midgardsormr became melancholic as his gaze wandered over the landscape. This pretty area here... The dragon would never be able to show his precious maiden truly, which landscape he had seen as the very first wonder the planet was offering to him...  
His companion gazed at the dragon-father.  
Pity was written all over its face as the being watched him from afar.  
He found his brain's ill humor frustrating, to remind him of his bad luck with the one who provoked his attention, but... On the other hand, this might be a good thing to do... He had lost someone without ever possessing the object of his yearnings. The Silvertear Lake's former beauty was also gone forever. But Cecilia wasn't dead yet. She was very valuable even without a clear appellation for the affection in his mind.  
Sad happiness made his jagged maw smile.  
“Thou art not real, but... I thank thee for reminding me of the importance to worship everything dear to me in the present instead of the inalterable future. Even if I carry not much hope in my heart, I will cling to this light until my spirit vanishes into nothingness. Will cherish it until my existence disappears forever. … I am glad thou helped me once more.”  
The heavenly existence nodded – gently smiling – and gave him an all-knowing gaze.  
Then, it flew away, while Midgardsormr sank into dreamless slumber.

A hiss escaped him – fists simultaneously clenching.  
She was overdoing the treatment for today a little too much...  
“Thy optimism chokes me. Literally.” he muttered plus glanced with a helpless facial expression over his left shoulder at the Astrologian. “Sorry!” ,Augustine apologized, “I'm just still a bit distracted by yesterday's news... I wouldn't have expected the Inquisitors to pick on another Elezen. For sure they're be glad about a Lalafell interviewing everybody about Ishgard, but Alphinaud is similar to Ishgard's royalty the descendant of a noble family. He have more rights than Tataru.”  
'Midge' sighed and stated down-to-earth: “Thou and thy racism... I don't think any stranger would experience mercy in this city. Those who do not originate from 'noble' blood will be judged and punished for the most trivial things. Intrigues are part of Ishgard's history – longer than thou art able to imagine. Humans tend to destroy themselves from the inside even while they are at the edge of or right within a war. Destruction by an enemy's hand is the lesser evil.”  
“True, true... This place really is corrupt... We Au Ra know this pretty well. But I learned to call it my home, so... I guess you can forgive me my naivety.” the Raen said and switched from his nape to his bared shoulder-blades; pressing with her fingertips onto the hurting bones.  
Ah, that wasn't good... And her scolding made it worse: “Man, you honestly overdid it yesterday. Estinien is right; this is the result of self-injuries. How reckless of you! I confidently thought I could heal your body, but that's rather something good old nature has to correct. However, with you and your stubborn mind, I suppose the process will take more time than necessary. Or do you plan to skip your training plus adventurer-quests for a while?”  
He gave her a short look; eyes glowing in crimson. “Not going to happen.” the disguised dragon muttered while his gaze returned to the floor. Ignoring her muted complaint, the Methuselah focused on breathing. He still needed to get used to it... This therapy. Albeit Augustine reminded him so much of the maiden, she was still somebody else. Midgardsormr's draconic instincts never relaxed under her touches. One should expect, that he could sooner or later trust this friendly Raen, but absurd as his mind was, this realization didn't occur.  
Luckily, the Astrologian was very patient. She mimed his therapist even while their conversations turned sometimes into discussions. Never minding his occasionally harshness or stinging gazes. Always accepting his narrow-minded opinions. Ah yes... Her whole trait resembled indeed Cecilia. And he knew she wasn't intentionally acting like the archmage. The two women just happened to possess similar personalities.  
Something Midgardsormr admired.  
Something he craved because of remembering their shared night...  
“You can put your pullovers on. We're finished for today.” Augustine stated and patted audible smiling his back. The Methuselah exhaled deeply before he gripped his first shirt. Being half-naked in the Astrologian's near was every time anew frustrating... Similar as a dragon showed a mortal its vulnerable spots... While his head vanished in the fabric, he recalled – despite all the identical facets – how much she was in the same moment NOT like his precious maiden...  
Augustine was a dragon-slayer. She killed them if she had to. And didn't regret taking their lives. Midgardsormr's species was for her like all the other creatures--- monsters inhabiting this planet; something she had usually not on her mind. Probably, nothing would change for her if she'd know about the truth which Ishgard denied... The eccentric Astrologian was in this aspect rather a normal, predictable human who cared for the status quo.  
“Good evening! Augustine, are you still busy or can I spend some time with my childhood-friend?” a familiar voice called from the ground-floor. “Sure you can! Wait a moment; we'll come down!” she answered full-throated while the disguised dragon put the last piece of clothing on.  
When Midgardsormr followed the Raen, Haurchefant looked guiltily at him in the very moment their eyes met. “I am sorry... I didn't know you were yet here, Midge... Hopefully I wasn't interrupting your therapy?” the good knight asked worried. Augustine shook her head and replied instead of the Methuselah: “No, you weren't. Don't worry, we had already completed our session. It's just a bit later than usual because I got very distracted. See, I find it still quite unbelievable, that the Inquisitors went so far to confront two guests of a royal house.” “Yes, this shocked me, too... Actually I thought at first that I must be dreaming!”  
Listening to their following talk, Midgardsormr wondered silently, why the Elezen trusted blindly the regularly evening-ritual. Why he wasn't thinking of something fishy here, to be more precisely. As much as the Methuselah had learned, such suspicious behavior of men – like often meeting another woman – was a possible sign of cheating. Yet, Haurchefant demonstrated pure belief into his female friend and Cecilia's 'partner'. He was convinced, that they weren't doing anything wrong; the sky-blue eyes revealed fullest trust.  
A weak smile glided over Midgardsormr's mortal lips.  
This innocent Elezen would have been the right choice to make. Nowhere else could such a brave, good heart been found within this icy solitude. Beating endlessly with sheer warmth and faith... Cecilia was in consideration of Haurchefant a fool to not fall head-over-heels in love.  
“I shall return to Fortemps' manor.” the disguised dragon stated abruptly.  
“Huh? Why? It's so nice when only the three of us are together!” Augustine protested immediately. Of course the knight joined her complaint: “We're spending far too rarely time with each other... Can't you stay a little bit longer, please? One half-hour, at least?”  
Chuckling, 'Midge' shook his head. “No. I won't mind a meeting after tomorrow's tasks are done, but for today I should behave well and go easy on my back. After all, my therapist scolded me already for recklessness.” “Hehe, yeah, I did that...” ,the Astrologian confirmed meekly under his devilish smirk, “If you plan to rest in your room at the villa, I think that's probably the more prudent decision how to spend to rest of this day. … Okay, okay, I won't stop you.”  
Haurchefant stared worried at the disguised dragon. “What happened to your back? Have you hurt yourself today? Or were the Vanu yesterday---” “Haurchy, you don't have to treat the Warriors and their friends all the time with so much concern. Give it a break!” the Au Ra said grinning and poked the Elezen with her right elbow. Sheepishly, her childhood-friend apologized and bowed down; making the Methuselah laugh muted.

After saying goodbye, Midgardsormr walked quickly out of the building.  
His excuse to leave the two humans was in fact a false pretence... Actually he didn't care for Augustine's reproof. If she agreed to 'Midge's' daily routine or not wasn't influencing his decision to improve his physical performances. But what he cared for... was the bond between these mortals.  
The chance wasn't huge, but the ancient dragon saw here still a possibility...  
Haurchefant and Augustine could be more than just friends. While they spend these days more time with each other, their favorite Warrior of Light wasn't around to distract them... This could enable perhaps some realization for the knight, that a similar woman had always been in his near. Furthermore, the Astrologian admired her childhood-friend already like a hero; she only needed romantic sentiments in order to fall for him.  
Well, of course it wasn't Midgardsormr's place to tell them what they should feel.  
As the Methuselah walked through gently falling snowflakes, he knew these mortals had the right to refuse an easier path. Both humans could cling endlessly to their feelings for Cecilia, if they wanted such loyalty. Even, when this would mean to be alone, their emotions had priority. Above all...  
Their darling wasn't truly taken. She was still available.  
Heh... Unbelievable how long they had already been fooled... Twenty days...  
Midgardsormr didn't plan to carry Erik's lie forever on his shoulders. Not for this Hyur, at least.  
As soon as possible... Should Cecilia ever wake up again... The dragon-father would do whatever she wanted from him – declining the false title instantly or enduring the appellation as long as she thought it might be a good idea. But anyways, he would get finally rid of the hated falsehood. Surely not by putting the gruff Marauder in a bad light – the lie was meant to be protection, after all. However, an ancient existence couldn't live in a cage of untruthfulness. This mortal vessel with all its limitations plus human socializing was prison enough.  
Stepping into the villa, he greeted the guards marginally.  
Although his draconic pride would normally not allow such little injuries to trouble him at all, Midgardsormr couldn't deny the nuisance his hurting nerves as well as bones meant. Perhaps... relaxing his back was in the end no stupid idea. After all, he would soon sleep for a few hours and then restart his routine. A new day awaited; new quests to accept and lots of training to exercise.  
The corridor which led to Cecilia's room had been quiet so far.  
With that, the dragon-father was surprised when the silence was suddenly broken.  
Muted tunes of a stern conversation echoed through the halls; barely audible for normal mortal ears. Who was visiting the maiden at this late hour...? Not that he cared for the clock-time-adjustment, but they could have joined him instead of going alone to her...  
His feet stopped immediately when he could see in the distance, that Erik and Sir Aymeric stood in the maiden's door. Both men appeared to be busy with a private talk, hence 'Midge' should better not disturb them... Yet... If his corpus would just be a bit more energetic now... Tiredness spread through his aching muscles a fortiori he didn't sit down... Undecided, what would be the best thing to do in this situation, the disguised antiquity didn't move. His hesitation enabled him unwillingly to listen to their words thanks to his remarkable sense of hearing.  
“...is truly blessed with a considerate brother. Do not think otherwise.” the Lord Commander's voice reached Midgardsormr's ears first. “But I fail to help her whenever she needs me. With all my pride, I often trust Ceci's abilities too much – which makes me blind for danger. Of course I don't think of patronizing my personal sister, but... Argh...”  
From afar, it looked like Erik was squinting the eyes. The choked sound which came from his throat was anyways quite noticeable. To be honest, the dragon petrified by watching such mortal misery. Especially in this case. Normally, the gruff man let only Cecilia come truthfully close to him – whereby these signs of desperation were now far more sentimentality than Erik's usual behavior was ever insinuating. To watch this moment now was appalling...  
Aymeric's mien beclouded with agony: “Your silent suffering is reason enough to not think of you as a reckless sibling. Evil words of a few Inquisitors don't change this. For Lady Cecilia, you are the best possible brother.” A weak grin slipped over Erik's face. “How long are you going to use that formal idiocy? Or call her politely by her surname? That behavior's so stupid, mister elf... After all, you never used 'sir' or a family-name in consideration of me.”  
Midgardsormr raised the brows – this just sounded like Erik was talking about his own, lost Eorzea. The Lord Commander, however, was unaware of this hint while he smiled amused: “Hah, funny... You do not reveal your real name to anybody, so I had not really a choice how to address you. … But okay, when your sister wakes up, I'll ask her if I am allowed to use her given name.”  
Looking at the ground, Erik noticed: “It feels good to be exceptionally not the only one who's sure she won't stay forever comatose...” The Elezen sighed and scrutinized the depressed Marauder. “Your comrades demonstrate usually confidence... But yes, if one knows them, their doubt leaks sometimes through their heroic facade. Even Sir Midge as her boyfriend appears desperate underneath the obvious wish to help. … I do whatever I can to lessen the burden for all of you. Even while the antipathy in two of Ishgard's four royal houses is immense, I don't give up on convincing the whole city of your value.”  
The Hyur glanced up: “Hatred follows you through every political issue because of your heritage, but you never grow tired of doing the right thing.” “Of course not.” ,the knight emphasized, “Ishgard must open its eyes to the rest of the world – see more than just its very own interests. Central Coerthas began to change – and we all can see that this was a good occurrence. The truth can't be denied forever.” Aymeric smiled optimistic, but these steel-eyes closed in pain as they saw the Lord's assurance. Then, with a sunken head, Erik mumbled: “I saw a vision of you paying lethal for your help. And I must admit... it's still eating me up to feel this loss in my chest...”  
The dragon jerked minimal.  
Aha, so the Warrior was indeed hinting to that other world... And according to his intangible agony, the Lord Commander had perished on this mirrored planet. Well, that was almost self-evident while many important inhabitants of the Holy City were against any support of the Warriors...  
Midgardsormr was surprised when the Elezen abruptly gripped Erik's shoulders.  
“I'm not going to die. As if I could even leave Estinien and you alone! The two of you would end up on the burning stake without me covering your backs.” Aymeric said and put the right hand under the Hyur's chin, so that he forced him to look up. The expression in the later's irises was distressful while he studied the cyan-eyes. “I saw the future... Without my sister, I know we are probably NOT able to change our fate... Darkness we all couldn't foresee will swallow you altogether and then extinguish your soul in the very process.” Erik revealed and gave a short sob.  
The father of dragon-kind quivered to watch this.  
Suddenly... it was easy to tell, what his alternate version had seen in the Warrior...  
Once, another Primogenitor was close enough to this Hyur for experiencing his mortal weaknesses – and even seeing desirable aspects such as condolence and duteousness. Losing their world had indeed turned Erik into the shadow of a man worth to be accompanied by a dragon.  
Aymeric stroked gently Erik's shock of hair, albeit seriousness lay in the Elezen's mien. He stated down-to-earth: “We'll see if the Echo was showing you something unalterable. But I refuse to believe blindly, that all I fight for should already be in vain. Since I met you for the very first time, I'm sure my path is the right one. So trust me and don't lower your head in fear.”  
“You're a better leader than me...” Erik grumbled meekly and tried to smirk. “Of course I am.” ,Aymeric stated chuckling, “After all, the mighty boss of the Warriors of Light has condescended to let me see a side of him which he does not even like to show his personal sister.”  
The Hyur sulked: “Pfft, as her big brother, it would be pretty counterproductive to bawl my eyes out on her shoulder... Just look how little respect YOU give me when we're alone...” His words made the Elezen laugh abashed. “That's only because the two of us do not care for each others titles... Your straightforward informality lifts a weight from me just as Estinien's bluntness does. You two make me feel happier than I normally am. … No, not exactly in the same way. You are different, Monsieur Warrior. I'm not drawn to his cynicism, but to yours.” “Well, I'm cornier than he is... Surely the lesser evil is rather to your liking.” the Marauder muttered. His conversational-partner shook the head: “I didn't mean that. Estinien is like a brother for me. You, on the contrary...”  
Widening his eyes, the disguised dragon watched how Aymeric leaned down and – with the pressure of a butterfly – touched Erik's lips. This... suggested the kiss of a fairy-tale-prince... Probably, it also felt like one... Considering the surprised mien of the Hyur, anyways, he was just as baffled as 'Midge' himself. Well... Maybe not entirely over-strained like the ancient being.  
Erik had been implying a connection to the Lord Commander of his alternate Eorzea...  
Without the awful behavior alias cold shoulder he demonstrated nonstop towards other humans, perhaps the Marauder wouldn't have prevented a bond to the Elezen in this world. Therefore, it was odd to see him acting as if this here was an unexpected novelty. He had to know mortal socializing better than an antiquity, after all...  
Erik's trembling body spoke silently of confusion when Aymeric let go of his mouth.  
“Are you kidding...? Fooling yourself...?” ,the brunette man scoffed throaty, “How can you do this?! I'm willingly unfriendly – plus fixated on my purpose – to make sure nobody becomes too attached to me... And you still think I'm sympathetic?!” Huh, the Hyur snapped the last words nervously. Looked like he had indeed not counted on any emotional bonding... Aymeric smiled innocent while he ignored the complaint: “A treasure's a treasure even under a load of stony soil. You're special.”  
Midgardsormr couldn't remember to have ever seen such a helpless Midlander.  
Normally, he would relish in the situation of this annoying, over-strained mortal... Erik failed similar to Ishgard's people in acting humble plus gentle, after all. But the father of dragon-kind couldn't enjoy his awkwardness now. He owed this person a lot... Pretending to haven't heard or seen both men, the disguised dragon walked into the direction of Cecilia's door. “Ah, good evening! I didn't know thou would visit us tonight.” the Methuselah called with slight surprise in his voice when her personal brother as well as Aymeric gazed irritated at him.  
Politely, the Lord Commander replied: “Sir Midge... Forgive my lack of manners. I know it would have been appropriate to inform you about the visit.” Shrugging, 'Midge' said calmly: “No problem. I just hope I didn't disturb thee.” Embarrassed, Aymeric avoided eye-contact for a short moment, while Erik regained his usual sassiness. “We were just chatting. Some talk from one bro to another, so to speak.” ,the Marauder uttered nonchalantly, “If you don't mind talking mostly about Ceci as well as Estinien, feel free to join our club of mocking big brothers.”  
Keeping down his amusement about Erik's obvious wish to save face, the Methuselah responded: “I'm not participating in negative gossip, but I gladly stay in thy company as long as thou art here.” “That would be nice. And I promise we won't overdo our presence at Fortemps' manor.” the Lord gave him smiling his word.

Albeit it had been a good conversation, he was relieved to finally close the door.  
Ah, wonderful tranquility... Only the chimney's sizzling noise and Cecilia's calm breath were audible when he took a seat in the armchair next to her bed. The quietness made his mind a little more active; he would not yet indulge into slumber. Instead of this, Midgardsormr could do something useful which didn't require more physical movement than stirring eyes and hands.  
Slightly smiling, the dragon-father put his shoes off before he covered the legs with a blanket; leaning his back against the chair. Such welcome relaxation... After enjoying this for a moment, 'Midge' grabbed a thick grimoire from the small desk next to the maiden's bed. Unbelievable to reflect on this trait, but it was the truth: Reading books owned by her was becoming a habit of him. His current favorite was this door-stopper here; the one about Astrology which Cecilia had studied on the day she cared for his sickish shape of a baby-dragon. The whole text was just as complicated as the two pages he had scrutinized back then, yet he loved absorbing Sharlayan's knowledge.  
If this vessel wouldn't lack magic, doing what Augustine had once suggested could be very luring... As an Astrologian, he would be able to support Cecilia's friends even when they fought his kind. Helpless people who needed a savior might also benefit from enhanced abilities. Above all...  
Avoiding confrontations through protective spells might be a key for ending the war without any more sacrifices. To think like this, of course, had to be labeled as naivety. But it was the only path his cynical mind could imagine to work. He knew the mentality of dragons too well; they all were basically shaped to match the example their Primogenitor gave. Thus, only something that was able to convince him might suffice to work the miracle.  
Also... It wasn't only for combative advantages to consider such career. That blue-eyed part of him, which yearned so deeply for peace, dreamed of fighting by Cecilia's side. The remnant of a child within the Methuselah – symbolically speaking – grew fond of the picture to be an Astrologian and assist the maiden in her master-class. He was sure, that her white-magic would become unstoppable with the right support.  
This dream, however, was still out of his reach. She was unconscious without any sign to change that soon; he couldn't even bind a small piece of aether to his will now. Perhaps he wasn't meant to have ambitions like mortals in spite of his shape... Nevertheless, Midgardsormr tried to see the best in Hydaelyn's part of the trade. Should there be any chance of fully outliving an adventurer's life – one that he could have – then it was self-evident to seek this luck. Never would he waste the mercy shown by the Mothercrystal.  
Also, theoretical knowledge was better than none.  
He might be able to teach others what he learned now, if his memorization wouldn't fail him. Though he doubted, that his mind could become a lot altered by his vessel. He was an ancient being with a solid spirit. An eternal mind. Yet... Nobody could know in the present, how the future might turn out to be. Perhaps he would become senile one day, if his soul would be caged for a long time in these humane chains... Wither and eventually die just as mortals; returning then unavoidably to the planet's aether as his soul's very last travel... Unable to be reborn ever again...  
Shaking his head, the dragon focused once more on reading.  
He shouldn't think to hard about the uncertain future.

Twenty-five days... Five more days that were gone forever...  
He should really stop counting the passing time. That was poison for his nerves.  
On the other hand, what else than a wandering mind should the dragon expect here...  
In this snowy wonderland, there wasn't such a high chance of getting a reason for being focused... 'Midge' had been tasked with patrolling through Central Coerthas; close to the cursed Witchdrop. With that, he could do nothing else than thinking while his feet carried him over the cold floor.  
Of course the Methuselah listened still to his environment.  
In order to tell, if bandits or heretics were in reach – anybody who should be captured.  
Having a daydreaming mind AND attentive senses was simple. As a Lancer who had quickly earned a good reputation, this slight multitasking wasn't difficult to handle for his Hyur-body. Furthermore, his draconic instincts were bored without occasionally thrills, whereby they automatically sharpened in promising situations. But there was more... And it was shameful...  
The restless rage triggered by his helplessness to protect the precious maiden seemed to be not any longer something he could suppress easily. Strengthened by the fear Nidhogg's promise had created, his wrath had now found a valve in violent behavior. Taking criminals down – knocking them out – might not be as satisfying as killing mortals, but at least is sufficed to calm his thirst for destruction. To inflict damage on those who deserved punishment for their misdeeds was a good compromise. And he wasn't judging by mortal standards here...  
Midgardsormr made always sure to be informed about possible targets.  
Like Erik and the others, he tried to be no mindless tool but somebody who followed his own path. When a heretic was no real criminal, he would show mercy while fighting them. But as soon as 'Midge' faced a brute individual, there was only pure violence which led his lance. Nobody was able to fool the ancient dragon. He could still sense the intentions of his foes, so he knew when they were determined to kill him or not.  
Thinking about it...  
This was a trait which Estinien and his grand-cousin possessed as well.  
In the last three days, the Methuselah had spent lots of time with both Elezen – and realized, that these men would be deadly foes in case they should ever see through his facade. The Azure Knight was a master of close combat, while Carlos was the strongest Thaumaturge alias Blackmage who the dragon had watched since the last few centuries. They went not softly on enemies and were ready to strike back as soon as somebody wanted to take their lives. Midgardsormr had been fearing Estinien's sharp senses before, but now this worry was more acute than ever before. Unimportant, that his vessel fooled them for now, as the knight's cousin appeared to be a similar threat.  
Who of them might be the first one trying to slay him...?  
Abruptly, an unusual sound caught his attention.  
Within a few seconds the dragon noticed the origin of this zinging noise; right before he dodged it with a high jump. As his corpus went up into the air, he watched how the attack – a lightning-bolt – crashed into the snow on which he had been walking before. Whoever was trying to harm him... The intention behind their blow was surely no innocent amusement.  
While gravity made him descend back to the ground, Midgardsormr watched out for the assassin. But what his eyes discovered was completely different from what he had been expecting...  
His foe was an animal. A being resembling Xanthos. Just as Garuda's horse he had met on the very first day by Cecilia's side, this exemplar here was another magical creature. However, this being wasn't embodying the wind. Blue electricity surrounded its dark hooves. The purple mane plus tail were also slightly sparkling. And the expressionless scleras without a pupil glowed coldly in yellow if not white color as they stared at him; ready to strike once more at lightning-speed.  
His legs were minimal shaking when they landed. Partly, they did so in fear...  
From the Warriors of Light as well as other adventurers, he had heard stories about several elemental quadrupeds which different Primals had created. One of these was a servant originating from the Black Shroud – Markab. The Methuselah was sure to face aforesaid being now.  
Faltering to use an ordinary spear against such foe, he just dodged a few attacks. Tried to go away. But the creature didn't let him. It was an aggressive horse with the attitude of a predator. Such nasty, incompliant animal had never crossed paths with him... Ah, he had no choice...  
Midgardsormr fought back. Albeit he wasn't fond of coming so close to the electric quadruped, 'Midge' wielded his weapon with full willpower. As brave as all the other Lancers he had seen in his long life, the dragon faced his enemy. Surely the horse struggled for a while... But then, it refrained finally from him – frightened by his pure determination to get rid of it.  
Panting, the father of dragon-kind watched as the creature sat abruptly down on the snow. His grip was still tight around the lance; even when his enemy lowered its head as a sign of peaceableness. He couldn't trust such a creature that had attacked him without any reason...  
“Formidable skills. They are truly commendable... I am surprised how quickly you learned to use mortal weapons.” an unfamiliar, deep tune of a man echoed suddenly in Midgardsormr's head. Frowning, the dragon asked: “Who art thou? I do not recognize thy voice. Thus I do not recall having met thee before.” An amused chuckle came following from the horse. It made 'Midge' tense in nervousness; nails scratching over the metal.  
The voice answered calmly: “I am somebody who got to know a specific maiden... You know her. After all, the girl's energy is tied to you, which identifies you as her benefactor. … I didn't expect the mighty Midgardsormr to rise for a chosen child of the Mothercrystal.” Twitching, the dragon in human shape stared at the horse. If this here was Markab, then it was clear to whom the will behind the quadruped belonged...  
“Ramuh.” he hissed while his eyes glowed slightly.  
Unbelievable... How could the Primal even be existent right now? If the Sylphs had summoned him, the Warriors of Light would already know about the ritual thanks to their connections to Gridania. Above all: Other adventurers might have as well warned everybody plus tried to prevent any further damage apart from the lost aether which the summon had consumed. Thus, chances weren't high for the bearded mage to appear plus leave his forest unnoticed.  
“I transferred a part of my will into this creature. Before the chosen Warriors met me, back then.” the old voice stated abruptly. This sudden explanation made the dragon-father narrow his eyes. “Thou read my mind?” Midgardsormr questioned – a threat looming in his words. Ramuh chuckled: “No. Your confusion is visible in your gaze. A humane face steals a bit of your inexpressiveness. Also, it seems to alter your personality significantly. Or have you not accompanied the maiden from the very beginning in mortal disguise?”  
Tss, 'amusing'... This 'god' here was on a personally level interested into his story... Grinning darkly, the dragon answered: “I thought thou art wise. Cecilia praised thy knowledge, after all. Thou should realize on thy own, that this corpus was granted by Hydaelyn. My vessel used to be a dragonet.” The horse furrowed visible its brows. “I see... So your humanity wasn't caused by a mere body... This means the maiden did a good job to warm your heart.” the old Primal noticed pleased.  
The dragon tensed as he felt his cheeks discoloring. In order to conceal the embarrassment, Midgardsormr growled: “Thou hast no right to care for this.” Isochronic, the crimson in his gaze burned brightly. But after the first irritation, Ramuh just laughed gently. “The maiden named Cecilia is truly a fine woman. She touches even a Primal's heart if such a being is not limited by its summoner's belief. This counts at least for me. ... I heard she got severely injured and hasn't recovered yet. There were no details given to my children, though. So I came to Coerthas for finding out myself, what might have happened to her.”  
Midgardsormr nodded: “I suppose thou got an answer.” “Yes, indeed.” ,the Primal confirmed, “However, I was worried about something else, too. What might he be doing... Hydaelyn's servant who had meanwhile 'adopted' the girl...? Possessing no knowledge about your condition was an unfortunate factor. I had been able to prognosticate your rise from the dead before, yet that hadn't involved a mortal. With that, I had no idea how you might react to a coma. But to luckily see now, what the maiden did to you before her accident, is a welcome surprise.”  
“What were thou expecting?” the Methuselah asked sourly. Ramuh's horse made a crotchety face: “A cold-blooded dragon who doesn't care for sentimentalities considering mortals. Who does not bind himself to men anymore; not even to one of Hydaelyn's chosen children. I was worried, that the young Raen might be just a means-to-an-end for you.” Offended, Midgardsormr shook his head. “That might have been true in the very beginning when I just watched a pretty little mortal visiting my grave, but now I am far away from considering her as just a pawn!”  
The dragon got impatient, so he almost screamed the last word.  
Markab's ears and tail vellicated calmly. As if its owner was at ease... When the horse approached him afterwards, Midgardsormr scrutinized it nevertheless attentively. He wasn't trusting Primals – generally not. His muscles tensed when the creature summoned a small lightning-bolt in the air. “Do not fear.” ,Ramuh said unconcerned, “This isn't meant to be an attack. Look closer at it.”  
The Methuselah did unwillingly what the patron of the Sylphs had asked for.  
Admittedly, he was surprised when his eyes recognized a small whistle within the purple electricity. “An instrument? Why art thou giving this to me?” the disguised dragon questioned skeptical. Markab seemed to smile when the spirit within the horse answered: “I presume you're not yet owning a mount. Perhaps you could make use of my creation; at least for a while.”  
Wrinkling his nose, Midgardsormr stared at the whistle. Such dubious gift didn't make him happy... Who knew, how trustworthy the Primal's creature might be... But it was true, that 'Midge' didn't have a personal mount. So, at least sometimes he should consider calling Markab for help...  
“I accept thy support for now...” ,the dragon-father gave demotivated in, “...albeit I see no reason why thou art willing to lend me thy quadruped.” Ramuh sighed intensely: “My decision should be easy to comprehend... It's for your maiden. She's a wonderful mortal. Good influence. Just look how emotional you become when someone insults you of treating her like an object. … Her nature matches our immortal needs even though this makes her simultaneously unsympathetic for humans. … I would be glad to support her guardian.”  
“'Guardian'?!” Midgardsormr snapped and grabbed the whistle forcefully, so that an ordinary object would have cracked. “Is something wrong with this appellation?” the Primal wondered perplexed. “Of course it is! That's similar awful like the mortals' idea of me being a hero! I endangered Cecilia's life when I hesitated to do something in the Witchdrop. The shock and helplessness were paralyzing me back then...! Me and my useless puppet-form! … Nothing about this ancient being caged in a mortal facade matches the picture all of thee seem to have...”  
Markab tipped with its muzzle against 'Midge's' shoulder.  
The horse's master stated: “You are a dragon, but still it's a longer while ago that you were for the last time interacting with humans. Old-fashioned things like us shouldn't question their excitement. Also, if I understand you correctly, your admirers do not know anything about the trouble you had. Maybe you shouldn't pay attention to them as long as you do not plan to inform the mortals about the whole story.”  
Midgardsormr turned away from his conversational-partner: “Apologies... Existing in a mortal cage makes me hysterical...” Ramuh snickered lowly before his quadruped made a trilling tune. “I find it quite entertaining to watch the mighty Midgardsormr in a rather emotional state. In the past, seemingly, you weren't famous for sharing thoughts or feelings.”  
'Midge's' eyes widened immediately. Staring at the ground, the dragon asked muted: “Have I really become so different? Has this body altered my characteristics so much...?” “Does this knowledge unsettle you?” the Primal countered calmly. “... Perhaps.” Midgardsormr replied soundless.  
When he continued the patrol, Markab walked right behind him.

It was... a strange feeling.  
Although adventurers seemed to be famous for having one, he couldn't get used to this...  
A companion-animal. Not directly a battler like Chocobos, but still a creature always by his side. Though... this exemplar here wasn't normal. Apart from its colorful optic as well as the electricity, Markab was quite of a creepy horse with these empty eyes. When it brought him on the next day from one gathering-spot to another, 'Midge' couldn't help but feel nervous whenever he dismounted. Under the horse's unwillingly cold gaze, even an ancient dragon wasn't able to feel save...  
Cecilia's Xanthos had already been unsettling, to be honest. But Markab's case was definitely worse. The accentuated contrast between a dark-purple body and yellow-white scleras frightened or rather provoked his draconic instincts if he thought too much about it.  
Ramuh seemed to enjoy his distrust. The occasional moments in which the Primal's spirit decided to emerge from a dozing state, he seemed amused by Midgardsormr's struggle with the morbid horse. For example... When they went in the early evening back to Ishgard, the Sylph's patron joked about having made a rather silly decision – he should have created a Chocobo to possess a pleasant shell. This hoax annoyed the Methuselah, since a bird would probably also have been a scary creature, whereby he dismounted. But instead of feeling offended, his companion laughed easygoing.  
Despite several nuisances, however, Ramuh wasn't acting too meddlesome. He also let his creature behave well. The horse vanished whenever 'Midge' made clear to not need support. It carried things with that long muzzle without complaints. And the quadruped threw the disguised dragon never from its back.  
This almost polite restraint was welcome, to be honest.  
After all, it felt sometimes as if the Primal was mocking Midgardsormr... He was far younger than the dragon, yet he seemed to make use of the current circumstance. Expressing amusement to watch the Primogenitor's humane cage; like a grandfather enjoyed telling a grandchild important things about life. With that misery, all signs of the Primal's good will were calming. They gave at least some kind of impression, that Ramuh could perhaps be trusted...  
Well, there was another oddity...  
Nobody seemed confused by 'Midge's' new mount.  
Despite Markab's foreign appearance, the mortals weren't irritated when 'Midge' rode on its back. Although he had to be fair in this point... The Warrior's ignorance wasn't all too surprising. Adventurers were used to monsters and unusual phenomena. Their Scion-friends were also used to strange creatures. But... the people of Coerthas shouldn't act as if an ordinary horse passed by.  
It was so unworldly... No matter if knight or civilians – all of them didn't even flinch when they saw Ramuh's creation. Talking with Erik about this illogical behavior, 'Midge' learned why everybody was behaving unfazed. Thanks to Xanthos, many people had already endured some kind of shock-therapy. Cecilia as well as Tammy had been riding very often on Garuda's horse once the Warriors were setting it free from the Primal's control. Additionally, Annika joined them a short while later with Titan's Gullfaxi, which the Whitemage-Lalafell preferred due to the earth-element. Anyways, the three women had been frustrating as well as over-straining Central Coerthas' inhabitants a lot in the past, thus Markab couldn't scare the population anymore.  
Albeit he was glad to hear this, something else began to bother the Methuselah...  
Reading the people's faces, they thought of him once more as a hero. Having an unnatural, elemental creature by his side turned him in their opinion into a god-slayer. Into one of the stronger kind of adventurer. And despite his remarkable improvement as a Lancer – considering Alberic's and Estinien's opinion – Midgardsormr didn't expect his vessel to keep up with a summoned deity. Pitiful, as it was compared to both Warriors as well as random freelancers, this Hyur-shape sufficed not for momentous clashes. The additional attention all these people gave 'Midge' made him therefore rather nervous instead of flattered.  
Yet... Partly, the dragon wished to fit into that role of a capable adventurer. If he would have earned the right to call Markab by beating the Sylph's patron, this success would fill his chest with pride. Maybe also with a bit of gratification. After all, his aggression towards Primals wasn't all too much differing from his original disdain for mortals since Ratatoskr's death. He might have stopped praying with his full heart, that Ishgard shall be completely destroyed, but the illusions which Zodiark's servants brought into this world still deserved his entire hatred.  
As the days passed, Midgardsormr got baffled.  
Why wasn't Ramuh leeching any further aether than the amount his last summon had claimed? Initially, the Methuselah presumed Primals took in such compressed form only now and then a fresh load of energy. But to his surprise, Markab never absorbed a tiny magic-spark from its environment. As if the horse was the pure absence of life, it resembled rather zombies than breathing creatures.  
Ironic to think like this about a quadruped with empty eyes...  
When his skepticism became unbearable, the dragon questioned finally in the next evening Ramuh's unusual behavior. But instead of reacting abashed, the wise mage wasn't all too surprised about Midgardsormr's irritation. Ramuh had already expected such distrust before, thus he didn't mind to explain the situation for 'Midge'. Although the Primal couldn't swagger about the topic in general, fairly speaking. Others of his kind had so far not used a living vessel – as much as he knew.  
However, in the far away East, it was for some gods absolutely normal to possess special objects and rest within these. While the Primals were hiding, no mortal could tell if there were even summoned deities around. Noticing any activity of these spirits would after all be a tough challenge, since they rarely needed any optional aether for existing. The compressed form of practically nothing more than a soul wasted no energy. And at least in Ramuh's case, mentioned concept worked also for existing in a living host-body.  
After listening to this story, Midgardsormr admitted, that he hadn't been doing his research on different Primal-types very well in the past. His disdain prevented him from caring for the history plus abilities of each individual pseudo-god... While Ramuh didn't see this as a true problem in case of a dragon, the Methuselah was sure his former carefreeness had been a foolish thing to exercise. Paying more attention to such details – like humans already did, might in the end be the better tactic for immortals, as even the Primogenitor's own kind could become a victim of Primal-activities.  
Above all, his mortal vessel--- he was officially an adventurer. Helping others had become his duty, thus knowing everything about threats of humankind was part of the job. 'Midge' couldn't refrain from his tasks. He had wholeheartedly sworn to be there for the helpless.  
Uttering this new, true devotion for humans without any concern surprised the father of dragon-kind in secret. Albeit he still disliked some of them as well as all the lies which Ishgard's history proclaimed to be facts, his stomach didn't hurt when he spoke of being a shield of mankind. Huh... Such altered belief was strange to experience...  
Ramuh seemed to notice his confusion.  
But the Sylph's patron was way longer than Midgardsormr a supporter of the Warriors of Light, whereby doubts weren't anymore part of the Primal's morale. Instead of questioning, Ramuh simply watched as well as enjoyed how spending time with mortals changed the ancient dragon slowly. Changed him to an extent... where 'Midge' entirely stopped thinking like one of his kind.  
If it had been vice versa, probably Midgardsormr would do the same...  
But the way it was, he struggled with feeling more and more bound to humans. Less and less connected to the draconic race. And albeit he wasn't truly alone, the persons who cared for 'Midge' weren't what he needed to overcome the hidden anxiety of a traitor. This knowledge, admittedly, made him even more worried.

His eyes were half-opened as he sat down on his preferred armchair.  
Despite all the progress he made as a Lancer, Midgardsormr was still unable to get used to this mortal vessel. If he could change one aspect, then he would surely add more stamina to its traits... Several tasks in the early morning had proofed once again the body's lack of endurance. Thanks to that slight humiliation, he couldn't help but partly curse the weak shape...  
Hmpf, how hilarious. Obviously the problem wasn't his vessel. Maybe dragons were just too spoiled by their powerful bodies as if they could appreciate a humane shell. After all, this shape sufficed for every single assignment. He could do whatever was necessary to get his jobs done. Furthermore, people admired him albeit he didn't see great achievements. They complimented this 'adventurer' on his skills – put him on a level with even the Warriors of Light. If many different mortals found 'Midge' vibrantly, then – probably – it might be necessary to share a little bit of their opinion.  
Yawning, the Methuselah decided spontaneous to take a nap.  
Of course lunchtime drew closer, yet a small portion of sleep appeared for now like the better idea... He had promised to gather in the afternoon several high-quality-metals for the Machinist-guild; without any possibility to revoke the mission once it was accepted. And with this set appointment, there would probably be no success if 'Midge' undertook his mission with a weakened corpus... Yes, he should definitely act reasonable before his stamina could quit.  
Once his vessel's head leaned relaxed against the velvety bolster, tired eyes fell automatically down. With every muscle loosing its tension, Midgardsormr's mind drifted quickly away. Until noontime, no doctors would come and check the maiden's health-condition, thus the dragon was assured of having as much peace and quiet as he needed. Though...  
His consciousness wasn't totally gone while the body was resting.  
Despite the closed door, he could hear when knights and servants walked through the corridor.  
Their quiet conversations didn't reach his ears in detail, but he noticed their voices nonetheless. Some of the words they made... It was embarrassing when they spoke about 'Midge' – unimportant, whatever the topic might be. The dragon-father had already realized, that Fortemps' subordinates were fond of him... They were clearly politer than the ordinary inhabitants who he had met so far, but even these reserved Elezen adored him.  
In his sleep, he sighed muted. If there would just be a way to avoid all this exhausting admiration... The Methuselah felt good to help those who truly needed his support, but becoming famous or popular wasn't something that gave him a positive emotion. His dreams confronted him too often with humans who spoke in high terms of him. They praised 'Midge' as they closed in on him; making it impossible to flee.  
This current nap wasn't in any aspect different... Although right now he was aware to be not awake. At night, on the other hand, sometimes he forgot these pictures were illusions created by his brain. Therefore, the fake-humans made Midgardsormr nervous and brought him even rarely to the point of waking up with a rushing drum in his chest.  
He grumbled lowly as his corpus sank deeper into the bolster.  
Even while taking a little slumber, the dragon was haunted by mortal problems...  
Hopefully he would be soon used again for tracking some criminals down. Beating those persons helped him always a little bit to let go of his anxiety, even though the draconic aggression boiling in his veins was arguable good for him. But after spending a whole month as a Hyur, there were still many things he wasn't able to overcome. Hence, the Methuselah needed distraction on a level where he was able to be as brute as the situation allowed...  
Not much time passed by as Midgardsormr slept.  
With his stomach being rather empty, his nap ended earlier than he would like to. But even though he could no longer sleep, the dragon refused opening his eyes instantly and standing up. Just a little more rest would be good for his poor corpus... Only a short return to the land of dreams would mean a lot to him... Perhaps one positive falsehood created by his silly ancient brain that would ease his concerns... A short visit in the distant past... A glance at the blitheful childhood of his offspring... Or an illusion of the girl whose smile he missed so much...  
… … …  
He soared without gravity binding his draconic corpus.  
Everything around him was black; not more than pure nothingness.  
But a faint, white dot in the distance drew his attention. And Midgardsormr did immediately know, who was visiting him once more because of his shaken mental stability.  
Longingly he watched, as the heavenly creature flew graceful through the void. His visitor resembled an entire fluffy feather when it came down to him; its puffy tail unfolding like smoke in the air. As the creature approached him unsettling close, the father of dragon-kind trembled when these silvery claws touched his long ears. When this round nose of its long muzzle brushed slightly over his nostrils.  
Pale eyes with pointed lens forced him to look at the former savior's face. Irises of a misty lake with light-blue scleras that could compel him to do whatever their owner wanted... Their very gaze caused a shudder all over Midgardsormr's long spine... This angelic wyvern looked as severely as if it tried to tell him something important. Tried to tell him the most important wisdom of the world.  
But before it--- Before HE could, the dream made the white dragon vanish.  
… … …  
“Where... am I...?”  
A soft voice. Fragile like the beat of a butterfly's wings. Slightly hoarse as if not used for a while. Midgardsormr didn't see anything in the dark of his crumbling dream, but the Methuselah felt like he recognized this tune somehow. It was familiar... Decoding the reason for this feeling was unfortunately not the easiest task to undertake with a slumberous head...  
“And... who are you...?”  
His mind emerged instantly from its dozy state.  
Starting to shiver with a good portion of his vessel, Midgardsormr couldn't breath for a moment. Was he hallucinating...? Well, of course he must be slightly insane. It was after all an evil hoax of his subconsciousness! Right...? No, this couldn't be real! … But the heartbeat in the vessel's chest was so intense, that he needed to contemplate the reality with his own eyes. The increasing disquiet had to end... just as his sleepiness, which must anyways vanish due to his duties.  
Slowly raising the lids, he stared directly at an odd-colored wonder.

Midgardsormr's mind was... blank. Emptier than the rumbling stomach he got.  
His eyes widened in mental overload, while a crystal and a jewel studied him in amazement. Although, worry shone within their expression in the very second his body began to shake entirely... The Methuselah's mouth was dry when he inhaled sharply under this attentive gaze – his eyes meanwhile busy with trying to get the information to his consciousness... The ancient mind refused initially to believe such insane phantasm, but that voice convinced it of having indeed no dream: “Are you okay...? You look... confused. Anything... wrong?”  
A miracle... An unbelievable miracle...  
The maiden was awake.  
He had often imagined this moment... But now – as it truthfully happened – words failed him. So, he could do nothing else but staring overwhelmed at the Raen as his vessel's shaking became worse. She watched his tremolo with the sorrow of an exhausted Whitemage who could currently not help, yet seemed a little bit calmed when he got a grip and bore the quake down.  
However, there was skepticism next to her curiosity as the two of them looked at each others faces. Surely waking up with a stranger next to her was hard... To have no idea what was going on...  
His eyes seemed to attract her attention at the most. She scrutinized his gaze with a combination of negative irritation as well as positive gentleness; the sensations switching places over and over. Midgardsormr hoped to not unsettle her in any way with these dim orbs, since he clearly doubted their shimmer could be controlled in case this odd trait happened...  
Meanwhile, he could see the Raen's useless effort to raise her head in order to take a better look at his face... It must truly be frightening for mortals to haven't been awake since a month.  
Gulping, 'Midge' finally attempted to give Cecilia – despite intense stuttering – some information: “Th-This room here be-belongs to Fo-Fortemps' mansion. A-After the li-life-threatening accident in Ce-Central Coerthas, the Co-Count insisted on y-your stay at the vi-villa so that your sta-state of health could stabilize. Fo-Four weeks have pa-passed si-since you fell into the Wi-Witchdrop.”  
The stammer was worse than expected...  
Ashamed of his lacking self-esteem, he lowered his head. Staring at tensed hands on his knees, Midgardsormr didn't know why he was so afraid of speaking to the maiden. But at least... one thing hadn't changed... He was still able to say 'you' when it was for addressing her.  
After a short silence, she inquired: “What about... you...? I still do not know... who you are...” Biting the lower lip noticeable, he pressed the thighs together. How was he supposed to answer...? Cecilia's following smile about his misery was audible. He didn't need to look up in order to know, how beautiful this view must be... The mien of an angel. “Don't be anxious...” ,the girl said with a soothing sound, “If Haurchefant's father... wouldn't trust you... you'd be not here. So you're surely... a trustworthy guy.”  
Hesitantly, 'Midge' glanced up. “I am not sure... if the answer will be to THY liking.” he whispered and felt the crimson glow emerge. Anxiety slipped over her face as she watched his irises burning like a candle, so he looked quickly down once more.  
It hadn't been his intention to scare Cecilia... but the chaotic feelings stirring inside of him were hard to keep in check a fortiori his nerviness became stronger. He had been aching to hear her voice at least for one last time... To see her smile and to feel the attention of her eyes... With his wish coming abruptly true while his shape was foreign to her, he didn't know the appropriate thing to do for letting his precious mortal see through Hydaelyn's granted facade. That was... IF doing so would even be a correct way to handle the situation... Part of him doubted, that troubling the maiden in any aspect would be a good idea as long as her body was weakened.  
He jerked when the Raen spoke muted: “You're no human... Your real body is normally scaly... Much more than mine... And you own in truth a pair of wings and a long tail... You got large ears, too... A bit like fins are... Am I correct...?” Though his heart was almost jumping out of his throat, he nodded quietly. Apparently she was already beginning to understand...  
“What happened...?” ,the girl asked quietly, “Why does a dragon chain itself to a mortal body...?” Her perplexity mixed with sprouting worry was tickling his horrible old-man-humor. A shy smile flitted over his lips when he recalled how much he had missed this rare occasion. Lifting his head, 'Midge' stated slightly grinning: “That's easy to explain. I... couldn't stand the thought of losing you. My whole existence denied the bare idea of spending never again time with you. So I let Her grace take my draconic powers away... as well the last sparks of the gift she had once bestowed upon me... in exchange for a way of saving your life.”  
Cecilia's eyes widened in shock. “You have... sacrificed so much... just for me...?”  
A few seconds passed. Then, she gazed at him with sad irises which reflected the daylight suspiciously strong. Drops glistened on her black eyelashes. “Stupid old dragon...” she murmured with an unhappy weak smile and made it somehow to move the right hand onto her face. Following, desperation slipped over the visible parts of her mien.  
Midgardsormr was surprised by her reaction. To see such straightforward guilt-feelings wasn't what he had expected. He would have bet on anger as well as her usual sense of justice, but not on sorrow and tears. Reaching out, he cautiously touched the back of her hand. “Don't try to cheer me up...” ,she snapped – as much as her weakened body allowed, “I'm sick of people who try to rescue me even if that means mutilating themselves...”  
Frowning, the Methuselah regretted once more to know not many things about Cecilia's past... There must have been severe moments in her life, which were in charge for the maiden being noticeably afraid of turning into someone who needed to be saved...  
He left the position on his armchair.  
Slowly kneeling down next to the bed, he leaned his face against her hand. Albeit the vessel's heart was pounding unbearably, the disguised dragon-father mumbled straightforward: “I have longed for your awakening... You can't imagine how much... The fear of losing you was an abyss that threatened to consume me every single moment I was forced to spend this existence without you. Please... Do not reject me when all I want is just comforting you...”  
The Methuselah withdrew against his will when he felt this silky hand slipping from her eyes. Cecilia gazed shyly at him with wet irises that flickered under emotional pressure, but nevertheless there lay warmth in both crystal and jewel. Not only guilt was ready to take her over... Fondness--- Affection dwelled in her weakened body as well.  
As he realized this, he couldn't keep the raising temperature of his cheeks down. The darkened hue must be quite visible... Embarrassed by the surprised expression her face made, the Methuselah returned to his usual spot in this room. While he leaned his back against the bolster, the maiden sipped a little on her lower lip as if she was considering something complex. It was admittedly odd, that she didn't dare to immediately do whatever she might have in mind...  
Was his vessel turning him into a stranger in her opinion, perhaps...? Not willingly, of course... There was no reason to blame her for having trouble with his unusual form...  
“So... What's your human-name?” she innocently interrupted his line of thought, albeit he could tell the maiden felt more curiosity than she demonstrated. Chuckling lowly, the Methuselah answered: “It's a bit silly... I didn't know what men wouldn't find suspicious when questioning my appellation, so my choice was uninspired... You probably won't remember the example you gave me once...”  
“Midge Luminae.” she said instantly. Her memorization was remarkable, but it seemed the Raen was just as astonished as he was. Cecilia's big eyes studied him for a moment, before she finally regained her ability to speak: “W-Why... did you choose my... carefree combination of sur- and family-name? Someone like you... should wear an appellation more... dignified.” Hah, amusing... She thought still highly of him... “As I told you... I am not good in understanding mortal quirks plus your conceptions.” ,the dragon told her slightly smiling, “Furthermore... It was a name you had indirectly given me. Going by this felt at least somehow right.”  
She turned her face a little away. “Your taste is awful... You must be dense... Or senile... Feverish...” the Raen complained muted. Midgardsormr couldn't help but laugh a little. Oh, how he had missed the way she sulked... The way she treated him as one of her kind... As a real friend... Two tears ran over his cheeks while he deeply inhaled the awareness of her restored consciousness.

Suddenly, a resolute knock on the door occurred.  
'Midge' nearly jumped out of his skin because he hadn't expected that...  
“Y-Yes?” the disguised dragon called hastily. “Excuse me, Monsieur Luminae, but---” a servant was about to say while entering the room, when the view of the awake maiden caught him off-guard. “Oh my, am I hallucinating?” the Elezen asked with his left hand hiding his mouth. “Uhm, no... You're not.” the maiden replied with an embarrassed smile on her lips. She seemed to overwhelm the good man with her answer, but quickly he came back to senses. Bowing down, the Elezen said: “Mademoiselle Shirone, it's a pleasure to see you safe and sound again! The Count will be so glad when he hears of the miracle! … A-Am I allowed to spread the news of your recovery now...?”  
Trying to sit up without success, Cecilia uttered grinning: “I wouldn't call that already 'recovery', but feel free to tell everyone about it. … That's okay for you, Midge?” Mentioned 'Hyur' wasn't used to her seeking so openly for his permission – in front of any present men – yet he didn't mind her consideration. Quite the opposite, in fact... “Please inform our allies about her state of health.” the Methuselah nodded calmly.  
After the Elezen had left the room, Cecilia turned her attention back to Midgardsormr.  
“As we're again alone... What were you meanwhile doing? While I was... sleeping, to be precise.” She obviously avoided the word 'coma'... Well, nobody would blame a person who was frightened because of that condition. Even Whitemages like her were allowed to fear untreatable sicknesses. “I... accepted your brother's advice in order to be preferably inconspicuous. I became an adventurer. A... gatherer...” the dragon responded hesitantly; afraid to reveal the story's rest.  
Cecilia looked at him as if a rare creature would be right in front of her. “Seriously? No joke...?” “No joke, maiden.” ,he declared smiling, “My struggle with your usual undertaking was severely, yet I did my best to become an accepted companion of your friends.”  
Her brows were lifted while she tried to grasp what he had told her. This view made him happier. “When you say 'advice'... Does this mean Erik supported you all this time...?” the Au Ra questioned and scrutinized him irritated. “As unbelievable as it might be, he was indeed quite often by my side. Thanks to him, many things went well in the last four weeks. And albeit I presume Erik himself should inform you about it... He knows who I am.”  
Blinking a few times, Cecilia silently reflected on his explanation.  
“So that's why he took willingly care of an amateur... If he hadn't helped you... maybe the two of us wouldn't be able to converse now.” she concluded quickly. Midgardsormr nodded partly amused: “Yes, I would have been lost... Not only for Ishgard's law, but also because I'm a terrible mortal. … This kind of life is for dragons very unusual. Such... bodies are unnatural.” “Did you have lots of trouble with your new shell?” the maiden worried. “I would be a liar if I said 'No.', but there are worse things in the world than getting accustomed to a humane vessel. I'm able to handle this form; at least sufficiently to complete tasks without causing chaos.” he responded relaxed.  
Abruptly, loud footsteps echoed through the corridor.  
That servant before had clearly done a good job in spreading the novelty swiftly...  
Midgardsormr honestly regretted this in silence, but he wouldn't keep the maiden for himself. Thus, he was glad for the one who entered now – completely out of breath – the chamber. Actually, Haurchefant boomed into the room like an explosion; with eyes as giant as those of a little child. Wearing not his usual armor but ordinary clothes any non-royal with a better position would own, the nicest of the three Fortemps-sons sprinted to Cecilia's bed.  
“Haurchefant---” was all she could say, because the knight hugged her tightly. “I'm so glad you're finally awake...! You can't imagine how worried I was...” the man said before a sniff escaped him. Cecilia returned as good as possible the embrace – sacrificing visibly energy for moving her arms, yet smiling softly in happiness. A shame they weren't a couple...  
When the Elezen retired just a little bit from her, one simple look at the maiden's adorable face seemed to bewitch him entirely. All politeness out of the window, the knight leaned fast forward. There lay yet no force in his doing. When he kissed her, it was as cautious as gentlemen would do. Even more beautiful than Aymeric's affection for Erik... Anyways, Cecilia blushed in rosy color. Both crystal and jewel widened in singlehearted astonishment. She didn't answer her friend, but also didn't struggle against the emotional outburst...  
Watching them, Midgardsormr blinked several times.  
He didn't know how to handle this situation... or what to feel right now.  
The Fortemps-knight let only slowly go of the Au Ra. But once Haurchefant came back to senses, he reacted quite panic-fueled. “I-I-I am so sorry...!” the Elezen stuttered scared by himself – bowing several times down to her as if the wrath of a noble woman awaited him. Although... it didn't seem she would be punishing him... Confusion spread over Cecilia's face; her friend's nervousness not appearing logical in the maiden's opinion. She had no idea, why a kiss should be bad.  
“Shouldn't you apologize to somebody else, too?” a criticizing statement from the door's direction stopped Haurchefant's rash, physical apologies. While the swordsman next to her made a guilty face when he stood still, the Au Ra noticed partly stunned her second companion's presence: “Estinien...? You're here...?” A tiny smirk scurried beneath the black helmet over these thin lips. “Hey Cec. Long time no see.”  
Cecilia had surely expected Erik in lieu of the Azure Dragoon... Just as Midgardsormr was rather counting on her personal brother... But perhaps, that surprise was less important for now; for her. While the Fortemps-knight acted – as much as she could tell – very strange. Her attention, at least, lay quickly once more on mentioned blue-haired ally.  
That man cleared his throat, nodded with a frustrated glance at the Dragoon and turned afterwards to 'Midge'. “I didn't plan to kiss her. Please do not feel betrayed by my action. It wasn't my intention nor my wish to trample onto your rights. The joy to see her awake just blinded for a short moment this sense we should my conscience expect to be. I apologize for my mistake.” the knight said; bowing deeply down as if his spine was made of rubber.  
Midgardsormr was flustered when abruptly six eyes scrutinized him.  
The two men in combination with Cecilia were hard to bear as they eagerly waited for his answer... Both Elezen simply wanted to hear a reaction – his precious maiden, however, was irritated by the entire situation. Well... Partly, it was his own fault. The dragon-father should have told her, probably, what this pseudo-brother of hers was telling everybody...  
“It's... It's okay...” ,he tried to calm Haurchefant albeit strengthening Erik's lie was against his will, “So far, I do not feel like I deserve the... status I was granted with. To be... accepted by Cecilia... was pure luck. And there happened so far... nothing between her and me, which would already justify any anger towards thee... Hence, thou didn't outreach a frontier.”  
The worried Fortemps-son appeared glad to hear these words.  
But Estinien clicked his tongue in snarky manner. 'Midge's' reaction did obviously not satisfy him. And other, than the still confused maiden, her cynical companion was energetic enough to voice every displeasure. “Loverboy, altruism is in matter of one's girlfriend not the best idea. Other guys could misunderstand this as your weakness. Could then try to steal what is yours. So, you better fix these self-esteem-issues – pronto – before it's too late.”  
The Methuselah gazed embarrassed at the floor.  
It wasn't directly for Estinien's insult, though, that he could no longer endure the heed of three men. Rather, because of Cecilia's irritated eyes which were now urgently searching for his own, Midgardsormr couldn't stand this moment any longer.  
Down-to-earth, the Azure Knight added: “Tho', it doesn't look like you have to do this yourself... Erik's boasting of your relationship may already scare all thieves away, since they wouldn't dare to annoy such cantankerous Marauder. As long as he approves you as the guy of his beloved sister, anybody trying to steal Cecilia could end up under his axe. … Well, never mess with his friends – especially not when he blesses their wish to be his sister's mate.”  
The pressure in 'Midge's' tense muscles began to hurt...  
He should really have prepared her ASAP for the situation in which they had gotten into...  
Midgardsormr jerked, when suddenly Cecilia's left hand lay on his right one. Gazing abashed at her, he saw an understanding smile in this beautiful mien as the two of them held eye-contact. She was... in the most positive way stubborn... To reach physically out for him, although her body must suffer under the slightest exhaustion, had a strong impact on the dragon.  
“Erik is a bit too overhasty when it comes to me.” ,she declared as her gaze slipped to both Elezen, “I would have preferred telling everyone myself, that I fished a nice boy and intend to keep him, you know? What my brother did wasn't fair.” The narcissistic Dragoon nodded: “Battle-axe-bearers tend to be rude. They don't reconsider their steps before they make them.” “That sounds correct. Perhaps I should hit Erik a little with my weapons. Thrash some sense for privacy into his head for being such a loudmouth.” she joked – at least Midgardsormr hoped it was a hoax.  
Haurchefant tried to keep a chuckle down while stating: “He was maybe unorthodox, but Erik tried to help Midge out. If we hadn't known, that the later was a close friend of yours and even more, possibly Ishgard wouldn't have allowed him to enter. As Erik's buddy, at least, Midge would rather not obtain an allowance to enter the Holy City.”  
“Screw those antique laws.” ,Estinien scoffed, “They are just a burden to everyone. All they do is making things more complicated and harder for Aymeric. When I left Ishgard with the Eye against their stupid order, it was the best thing that could have happened.” The Dragoon looked at Cecilia with a serious--- perhaps sulking mien, which Midgardsormr believed to soften in the very second Estinien's eyes found her smile.  
With less cynicism he changed the topic: “You know... Your boy was diligent while you took that long beauty-sleep. Counts not only for his preferred fishing, actually. Apart from gathering metals and herbs as if there was no tomorrow, Midge obtained a new career. He's now Alberic's student – and praised like a demi-god; even as a newcomer-Lancer.”  
Oh no... NO...!

Cecilia scrutinized Estinien at first as if she distrusted her ears or his sanitary.  
But the Elezen's seriousness let her realize none of them was mistaken. So, the maiden's gaze switched to Midgardsormr; eyes widely open. Shock lingering in both crystal and jewel. Ah... Well, of course this information would be shaking her attentive worldview... No dragon would per will even think about touching the weapon which plagued their kind since one millennium...  
Ashamed of himself, the Methuselah squinted the lids.  
The Fortemps-knight seemed to see partially through their misery, because he tried to interfere: “Yet, it wasn't his intention to become a Lancer. When Midge helped Alberic to support the training of a few young Dragoons, hazard and not motivation made him demonstrate how talented he is. However, even Estinien thinks highly of his skills, so you can say we all pushed him into this job. And with that, please don't believe Midge chose in blue-eyed manner an optional adventurer-path. He was for sure not airily abandoning his philosophy of avoiding violence.”  
Raising his lids minimal, 'Midge' watched Cecilia's visible struggle.  
This went also not unnoticed by Haurchefant, who tried once more to convince the Raen.  
“Please give him a chance! In fact, when Alberic and me conversed for the last time, he revealed something important. See, the old master considers turning Midge soon into a Dragoon.” Midgardsormr could hear, how the breath in Cecilia's throat caught. He himself should be shocked to learn of that novelty, but her abhorrence consumed his entire awareness.  
“Would be anyways time for this step.” ,Estinien commented, “Midge is already stronger than ordinary freshmen. He's also surpassing the adventurer-skills you and Erik had back then, when we met for the first time. So in other words, not giving him a Soul-Crystal comes close to idiocy.” “Definitely I agree on that! Above all, fighting all the time with this basic-comrade by our side becomes slowly embarrassing for the whole gang.” a familiar voice joked.  
“Speaking of a devil.” the Azure Knight grinned when the Warrior's Leader stepped into the room. “Doesn't this 'compliment' rather match yourself?” the wolf-like man right behind Erik muttered; earning Estinien's glare. However, both Hyur made surprised miens when they saw an awake Raen. Funny... The bare news of her awakening had perhaps not entirely sufficed to convince them. Skepticism, admittedly, which nobody would condemn. However, now they were free of doubt.  
“Hey brother. Hello Cid.” she greeted them with a mischievous smile.  
As the two Hyur tried to stomach the shock as well as hugged Cecilia tightly, another Elezen entered the chamber. It was the servant from before. “I'm sorry to inform you, but I couldn't reach the other Warriors. Monsieur Alphinaud and Mademoiselle Tataru are also not present in Ishgard.” he reported dutifully. “Meh, they'll return anyways in the evening. And Augustine?” the Marauder asked as he withdrew from his sister. “Mademoiselle Valentia was sent to Tailfeather in Dravania. As much as I heard, she will not come back in the next two days.”  
Erik raised the brows: “Speaking about the Forelands... Heh Midge, hadn't the Machinist-guild asked for some high-quality metals? If you want me to, I could get them, so that you are able to stay for the rest of the day with Ceci.” Midgardsormr was speechless by this offering, yet was afterwards cut off before he had even the chance to respond: “Apologies to interrupt, but... Monsieur Luminae, what I originally meant to tell you was the cancellation of the Machinist-guild's request. A merchant sold them today the needed materials for an acceptable price, so your help became dispensable. Hopefully, you aren't upset because of my omission to instantly notify you...”  
'Midge' blinked perplexed.  
This was the first time any client annulled a task for him... What a strange feeling; disappointment. Although – when the disguised dragon reflected on the advantage it delivered – he didn't regret this. It was welcome to him. He could just not exult, as there was probably a little disadvantage, too... Depending on Cecilia's angrily judgment...  
“I... I am not upset... Rather, I thank thee for informing me about it...” the antique being murmured, which made the aged servant smile gladly. Cid, meanwhile, chuckled gently: “Hehe, look at this. You must be quite happy when worlds fail you. And it's indeed really nice when somebody cancels a job with the right timing. … Yet, I wonder, if we all are not disturbing the two of you.”  
Glancing at the irate maiden, Midgardsormr would have loved to say immediately 'Of course not.', but he owed her an explanation. A clarification that could only be given when nobody else was here. With that, he didn't dare to protest when she said: “If it's okay, I would like to speak with Midge about his new adventurer-career. There are... several things he must define more precisely for me... Albeit you guys don't need to worry too much about it; I'm not planning to behead him.”  
“Tsk, at least I would not recommend to kill him after I had risked my own head.” her brother complained half-hearted. The engineer smiled: “Go easy on him, please. He helped us in Abalathia to regain some stolen tools, so I'd feel bad if you should punish him.” “The same counts for me, too. In Central Coerthas, he was supporting our work. Actually, he was helping wherever he could. Please put not too much guilt onto his shoulders for doing this.” Haurchefant begged before he left the chamber; together with both Hyur as well as the servant.  
Estinien studied Cecilia and 'Midge' with skeptical eyes underneath that black helmet. Obviously, the cynic unwilling to let them alone. Part of the Methuselah prayed he wouldn't change his mind... “Ey, would you show at least now some manners? Or do you intend to disturb a couple's privacy, Mister Wyrmblood?” Cid called from the corridor. Mentioned Elezen snapped: “And lower myself to the standard of Marauders? For what are you mistaking me?!” “HEY, if you want to insinuate, that you consider me a pig, then we should discuss that outside!” Erik called impatient.  
Abruptly, the Azure Knight started moving – and created therefore even more nervousness within Midgardsormr's chest. This wasn't good... Not good at all... A fortiori these feet carried the Dragoon to the exit, the Methuselah could hardly control his heartbeat.  
“Let him alive, Cec.” Estinien stated as he was about to close the door behind himself.  
“I'll try.” she huffed lowly with angered eyes; making the Elezen chuckle.

Inhaling, the disguised dragon closed the lids.  
Her reproachful gaze hurt way too much on his face...  
Clawing with his fingers into the armchair, Midgardsormr realized something... He had forgotten, how much her anger could resemble the wrath of his own kind. Rage that he was able to fear...  
Cecilia waited patiently until no echo was anymore audible in the corridor, but then she unleashed her indignation as much as her weakened body allowed: “Seriously?! A lance...?!? Couldn't you have picked ANY other weapon but this one...?! How do you even plan to fight Nidhogg's dragons? It's not like you could avoid them when Alberic even thinks about turning you into a Dragoon! Sooner or later, you WILL have to battle against your descendants no matter if you refuse doing so! And don't even try to whitewash the situation...!”  
He did not know the reason for her outburst.  
It was impossible for him to tell, why his choice enraged the maiden on a personal level.  
But with all these days passing by without her by his side, the Methuselah was even urging for such moments in which he was helpless under Cecilia's incomprehensible sentiments. Opening his eyes, he tried to illustrate his motives: “I couldn't risk anything. Every reaction making me suspicious in mortal eyes had to be avoided. Especially when it was for these things that could reveal the age of the spirit within this vessel. So I just did whatever people wanted me to do.”  
Her expression became mockingly – almost evil: “In other words, you made yourself not a proud adventurer who makes his choices freely, but a cheap slut without an own will. You bowed down to us foolish humans and swallowed every pain down which that behavior might have caused for you. Tss, you would have made a better choice if you had let me simply rot in the Witchdrop.”  
Eyes burning suddenly as if they were on crimson fire, the disguised dragon stood irately up.  
“Do you really think I could be so cold and dead inside?! Do you expect from me to ignore you when your life is in danger?!” ,he almost screamed in horror, “The sheer pain to see you in a coma was choking me! I almost failed to save your life because I couldn't think clearly under all the panic and despair...! I felt like dying myself when I realized I was about to lose you FOREVER...!!!”  
Cecilia didn't flinch under his open wrath. Rather the opposite happened...  
Just as back then in Western Coerthas, true compassion spread over her face. “You willingly became a pure traitor of your kind... only for making sure you could save my life...” she whispered almost not audible. Nodding, he knelt down next to her head. Still panting and slightly shivering because of his overreacting heartbeat. The irises lost slowly their stinging glow, isochronal.  
The maiden watched him as he recovered with compassionate, sad eyes.  
A gaze... that looked even more ancient than his own.  
Midgardsormr tried to smile for her, but couldn't bring himself to raising the corners of his mouth. With that, it appeared talking was the only option to soothe her worries. If that was even possible... “Fortunately, I have so far not faced one of my grandchildren... That's the only 'unacceptable' thing which I can tell you about my promotion to a bearer of the lance. Other than that, however, I have truly become Alberic's student.” the dragon shrived.  
Hesitantly touching strands of her white-golden hair, he furrowed his brows just as the maiden did. “But why not anything else...? Why of all things this class...? You must be consumed by guilt for even gripping a lance...” she assumed correctly. Sighing, his fingers brushed over her forehead when he replied: “My vessel can't accumulate aether. To make it more clear... Obviously this shape isn't meant to use magic. I would have loved to support you as an Astrologian, but this wish will most likely stay a dream I cannot fulfill as long as I am bound to this corpus. … A body which... most probably I will accompany when its time on this planet is over.”  
Cecilia looked at him as if he had broken her heart. Such agonized expression in her mien was unusual for the Au Ra... This time able to smile a little, the dragon stated: “As I said before... I have traded everything away which I could give Her grace in exchange for strength that allowed me to save you from death. The Echo's last extant sparks I still possessed including. And with these drops, I think I might have lost the ability of transcendence.”  
She closed her eyes in pain. Listening to the uneven heartbeat in her chest, Midgardsormr could nevertheless not help but be glad to see her awake again. It had been a big boulder on his shoulders to not know how she might react to his changed existence. A weight the father of dragon-kind slowly lost a fortiori he could just be with her.  
He wished... she could see it...  
Could see the intense joy her simple reawakening brought him...  
Carefully leaning his lips against her left temple, he tried to cheer the maiden up: “Your Raen-friend is a wonderful stubborn healer... Augustine doesn't accept my lack of magic and gives therapy to this vessel in every single evening. It was also her eager suggestion to turn me into an Astrologian, so if you find this silly dream of mine ridiculous, feel free to blame her for putting this thought into my head. Without her, probably I would never have considered wishing for this magic.”  
He was flustered when suddenly her left hand landed on the back of his neck.  
Glancing at him, the beautiful girl murmured with a shaky voice: “Midgard... Are you really sure that I was worth all the effort you must have put into this camouflage-body? Can you really live with the possibility of staying for the rest of your existence in a mortal cage?”  
Narrowing both crystal and jewel, she watched him in desperation when his lids sank relaxed down. “Yes... Yes, I am sure.” he whispered and placed softly a fond kiss onto her forehead. Afterwards, Cecilia sobbed muted and even began to cry – a view so gorgeous that it touched his heart deeply.  
A mortal creature mourning a dragon's sacrifice...  
He could truly grasp why Hraesvelgr had fallen for Shiva.  
Chuckling in his awful old-man-humor, the Methuselah gently embraced his precious maiden. Fundamentally relieved to feel all of a sudden her tired arms which held him as well. And when Cecilia whispered his full name, his heart ultimately rejoiced.


	14. Chapter 14

# Chapter Fourteen

A soft breeze filled with salty scent caressed his face.  
Oh, how welcome the feeling of a warmer atmosphere around him was...  
He couldn't remember – on a physical level – when he had inhaled Limsa Lominsa's fresh air for the last time. Surely his ancient plus precise instincts knew clearly, that only a short while had passed, but it felt still like ages ago when the maiden was bringing him to La Noscea; in order to gather some light for her beloved Relic Weapon. Also, he had never dared to enter other regions of Eorzea than Coerthas and Abalathia with his Hyur-vessel, whereby mortal standards might truly consider the fleeting time as eternities...  
Smiling, Midgardsormr turned around and looked at the passenger next to him on the ship's deck.  
Mentioned one sat on a stool – unable to stand on the feet thanks to her yet weakened body – and answered his gaze with worried eyes. Although their travel with the ferry-boat hadn't been troublesome at all, the beautiful nitpicker made a long face as if the weather would be stormy. Heh, the corners of his mouth flitted even more up; her concern nutriment for his awful old-man-humor. He was so addicted to this single mortal, that the childish ecstasy to see her finally awake again had still not left him.  
Cecilia, however, didn't share his excitement: “Tsk... What's so funny...? Everybody is exiling me... Do you find it nice how even Tataru treats me like a huge millstone around her neck?” Chuckling, the disguised dragon knelt in front of her down. “It's not necessary to exaggerate. The doctors were just suggesting, that you would have an easier recovery on La Noscea in lieu of Coerthas. Of course your body was already healed from the injuries you had obtained through the accident, but the coma left nevertheless some difficulties behind. Your friends only want you to regain your former strength in a peaceful, warm environment.”  
She sighed when the Methuselah lay his arms around her.  
“You have become so strong while I was unconscious...” the Raen marveled as he lifted her body into the air. Holding his precious girl quickly close, Midgardsormr grinned with a slight aftertaste of cynicism before he replied: “For dragons, your weight would be non-existent. My former vessel was too small for saying this seriously, yet it's still the truth. This unnoticeable 'burden' has become even worse due to your comatose state of health. There aren't many kilograms left... So I'm not sure, if I deserve your praise.”  
Cecilia snuggled up against his chest; making herself comfortable with closed eyes. “I'm sure you do not only take advantage of my light body... You have fought and trained a lot in order to deserve Alberic's trust. With that, you possess physical power...” Gently leaning his mouth onto her head, the dragon suggested: “Try to sleep if you feel the need of doing so. A midday-nap won't hurt.”  
She made a sulking expression, yet did as he had softly ordered.  
Watching her for a moment, intense pride flowed through his vessel's chest; reminding 'Midge' of the time when his children were yet little and enjoyed staying by his side. His offspring was once what he would guard like gold – now it was this maiden who meant the whole world to him. Although Midgardsormr had already been realizing this before her coma occurred, the knowledge was once more thrilling as well as unsettling, simultaneously.  
As he carried Cecilia with cautious motions down the ship, the Methuselah wondered, why Erik entrusted him so willingly with the safety of his personal sister. Of course the Warriors of Light became lately important pawns in the Dragonsong War, yet the Marauder had proofed often enough to be ready for changing tiny aspects within the time-flow. If he thought them to be right, in fact... With that, the father of dragon-kind suspected events in the near future, which Erik didn't want to avoid at any costs.  
However, the Midlander wasn't the only human who acted strange.  
Nobody else but Haurchefant insisted on escorting the Au Ra and 'Midge' through Mor Dhona and Thanalan in order to make sure, that no assassins could wait for the Warriors to place a foot into Ul'Dah's surroundings. Actually, the good knight even supported Cecilia's dislike for teleporting – albeit in his case, it was rather because of the paranoia to use a system sponsored by those who served Lolorito...  
Just as the Fortemps-knight, Augustine – who quitted her duties instantly once she learned per Linkshell of Cecilia's awakening – and of all things Estinien had joined the small group as well. Alphinaud was originally also planning to do the same, but the Azure Dragoon didn't let the boy, wherefore a frustrated scholar remained now in Ishgard. Under the protection of mentioned three, however, it was anyways pretty easy to reach Western Thanalan.  
Convincing Cecilia of changing the location in preferably peaceful manner had been more of a fight than everything else considering the trip. If she had been able to, probably the archmage would have burned them all in Vesper Bay; right in front of the ferry-docks... Only her dear Chocobo prevented an unleashing of her anger, since Edgar's chocolate-brown eyes filled with happiness and love distracted the Raen from wreaking havoc. The bird was normally rather a pure rascal, but for now, his affection was the strongest part of him – and she felt that.  
Slowly walking to Limsa's Upper Decks, it took 'Midge' a while to reach the Drowning Wrench. Although the dragon didn't really mind the duration, since he enjoyed every single second of simply holding his precious human. Enjoyed selfishly every second... of having her for himself...  
After ending their yesterday-dispute about his career, she had been nonstop surrounded by doctors. A necessity the Whitemage had to endure for traveling without any physicians in tow. A nuisance that counted even for the night. In other words... the 'couple' hadn't shared any further privacy, which frustrated 'Midge' despite expressing gratefulness for being allowed to stay nevertheless by Cecilia's side. Despite the true joy to be simply in her near.  
And even though he had sworn himself, that he would act humble, the dragon's instincts didn't allow him to stick completely to his pledge. There was a greedy part of him, that wanted to possess the maiden--- a part so afraid of her mortality, that it threatened to consume all good of his heart in favor of letting loose the leash which held his animalistic sentiments in check. A feeling so ugly... that it rivaled the blind hatred of his descendants...  
As he walked into the Adventurer's Guild, his chest tightened under painful awareness to be even less worth than any mortal. His very own decisions and wishes were in charge for this sentiment... If Midgardsormr had been able, he would hide her from the entire world; from every possible harm. Nidhogg's promise was like a poison or acid running over his heart whenever the Primogenitor thought of her complete recovery. The fear to lose Cecilia to his son's claws could easily bring him to the most unforgivable steps – depending on how much he might still be able to continuously bind himself to the maiden.  
But as he looked now at her relaxed mien as she dozed, Midgardsormr knew he would never have the strength to force this human to something she didn't want to happen. Didn't have the willpower to lock her away... He had promised to be Cecilia's watcher – and his intention hadn't changed in this one aspect. Albeit the father of dragon-kind was altered in many points, there was just as before the faint hope for beholding a miracle occur: A peaceful end of the Dragonsong War...  
Approaching the Drowning Wrench's boss, 'Midge' smiled. Simultaneously because of Baderon's excited expression – as well as Cecilia's half-opened eyes that were searching for his face.  
“I told you to sleep.” the disguised dragon whispered softly; eyes mesmerized when she gave him an embarrassed grin. “That's what I did. But I sensed you would meet Baderon soon, so I woke up just for now.” the maiden replied gently.  
“Bet he can do that pretty well without your protection, young lady.” mentioned Hyur joked with a muted voice and stepped to 'Midge's' right side. The Raen smiled widely when her gaze switched to the older man: “Hello Baderon. Do you mind lending us a room?” “Harhar, of course I can give you two a little love-nest.” ,the friendly man said – abashing Midgardsormr deeply, “Also, my crew is eager to help whenever especially you need support, Cecilia. Every staff-member promised that. So, take as much time as you need for regaining your full health.”  
Baderon led them to a chamber which resembled Gridania's guestroom, although there was no small fountain to the left. Warm light fell through big windows; the ocean spreading to their very feet when they stood right in front of the glass. If the Black Shroud wouldn't be so close to Thanalan, Midgardsormr might still have preferred the forest, but for the current situation he could be satisfied with La Noscea's beauty.  
Coming to think of this keyword...  
He was now truthfully alone with Cecilia when the Guild's proprietor left the room.  
Nervousness began to eat at the dragon's calmness when he realized this, hence 'Midge' placed her just in case cautiously onto the bed. This might went against his will, but... His long stilts couldn't be trusted when they shook just by the bare awareness of having her fullest attention...  
“Are you frightened when there's really nobody who could disturb us?” the maiden asked and knocked slightly onto the mattress. Her signal was actually welcome to him, so Midgardsormr caved to Cecilia's charms. Unwillingly amused by her perspicacity.  
Leaning next to her into the cushions, his legs were slightly cocked plus his feet rested on the bed. In this comfortable position, the Methuselah hesitantly began to answer: “I am bound to a vessel which matches your standards... With that, it feels like our dynamics have changed. The hilarious, unremarkable puppet which you could treat like a toy didn't make lots of an impression, while this... shape here looks at least like a normal person. And so, I have several different problems with getting accustomed to the way we have become.”  
Her eyelids sank slowly down, but she fought the need to continue her nap: “I don't like it when you see any differences... You are still the same for me, Midgard... Of course it's odd to watch you in a larger body... One, that isn't draconic but humane... Yet, I like WHO you are; not WHAT you are... Your personality is what drew me from the very first moment we met on the Agrius to you... Therefore, please don't be a racist all the time...”  
The dragon petrified when the meaning of her words ran through his brain. She was... Cecilia was... drawn to him? To HIM...? In which way was she intending to use these words...? After all, she had practically informed him right before the failed assassination in Central Coerthas was happening, that his gestures filled with affection felt like the ones of a dad to her...  
She snuggled suddenly up against his left arm; entangled it with her own as if she was a small child holding a teddy-bear. His heart melted to watch her blind trust, so he couldn't even think of animating the maiden for giving a concretely explanation. Laying the blanket with his free hand over her sleepy body, Midgardsormr smiled softly when Cecilia held his arm even tighter.  
Oh, she was worse than poison... She was like a drug he could no longer rip out of his system...  
Leaning his face into her hair, the Methuselah closed the eyes as well.

With lowered lids, he pressed his back against the wall.  
Aah... It was a shame to admit, how bad his motivation was...  
Though the father of dragon-kind was antique and normally calm as the deepest sea, it felt always like eternities whenever Cecilia vanished together with a female employee in the bathroom. Not, that she needed all too often one... But the maiden's regular speed was lowered to a minimum thanks to her yet powerless feet. 'Midge's' impatience became from break to break worse – and now, with the last visit for today, he barely managed to stay calm.  
Tss... This Hyur-shape did really force too much understanding of the general time-flow onto him... He wondered, how he should even stand more of these days, when the very first hours on the island were already over-straining him...  
A fluctuation of energy caught his attention.  
Glancing at the blue object in his right hand, Midgardsormr didn't know if making him a Dragoon was such good choice. Of course Alberic had only followed the very best intentions when he gave his newest student a Soul-Crystal... Yet, the gentle knight didn't know something very important about mentioned 'Hyur'... And this something spoke rather ill of the 'Midlander's' qualification to possesses even more strength than usual master-Lancers did.  
None of his kind should be entrusted with Ishgard's hope for a bright future. No one...  
Putting the small item back into his pocket, the dragon failed to find a reason for Alberic's decision to give him this upgrade in the early morning before the little group departed. Sooner or later, 'Midge' would return after all to Ishgard – then would have been more than enough time for officially giving him a higher rank. Yet, the former Azure Knight preferred an unofficial promotion. This made the Methuselah skeptical...  
Cecilia, on the other hand, trusted the old teacher of that narcissistic Elezen. She was convinced of Alberic's foresightful estimation – didn't question his inducement at all – and was clearly glad to see her 'boyfriend' with a power-boost.  
Midgardsormr's nails scratched over the rock behind his back.  
A fine partner he was... Just by the bare imagination of her almost undressed shape, his heart accelerated its speed. Unable to stand the simple memorization. … Tsk... Of course mortals found his behavior very noble to care nonstop for Cecilia, while he let her still have a bit intimate privacy. The people's admiring gazes told him, that they appreciated his gallant handling of his 'girlfriend'... But the dragon found it simply blasphemous to be so much controlled by embarrassment. Compared to his ancient mind, she was a child; a baby. He shouldn't feel nervous because of her appearance. At the most not, since his spirit was caged in a mortal vessel, too.  
Clawing deeper into the wall, he was unsettled to remember a specific problem with their room...  
There was no comfortable armchair – no sofa for him to use. He doubted, that a stool would suffice; at least he knew that his disguise wouldn't enjoy sleeping on a desk. And even with Cecilia approving for now Erik's lie in order to make things easier for Midgardsormr, the dragon was aware of the complicated situation...  
How awkward plus wrong it would be to share the sleeping-berth with her... How much it would fluster him to do this, albeit the Au Ra had told him at midday that she saw the same creature as before in him... As usual, the Raen was self-confident, while the Methuselah struggled with every new experience that accompanying her entailed. Hah... He would have laughed in amusement about this realization if his mind wouldn't be stressed right now.  
When the maiden finally appeared in the door – leaning powerless against the employee with a beautiful smile on her lips and that typical blue terrycloth-nightgown covering her corpus – Midgardsormr forgot instantly which worry was plaguing his mind. Dutiful, he stepped to the Raen and lifted her into his arms; thanking the Miqo'te for her support.  
'Midge' brought Cecilia back to their room, where he gently put her onto the nearest stool as she asked for this favor. Although the dragon found her intention rushed, it was on the other hand praiseworthy that she wanted to sew a bit before going to bed. To regain full motoric functionality, doing something familiar was surely no bad idea. Eating dinner had also worked, so the Methuselah was sure this task would also not over-strain the maiden.  
Despite the visual oddness, Midgardsormr sat down to her bared feet – enjoying how natural nearness to his precious girl felt. A smile flitted over his mouth when she shook grinning her head; clearly amused by his stubbornness. Yet, the Au Ra stitched peacefully into the dark-blue fabric 'Midge' had obtained for her and didn't complain at all about his quirk. She wasn't even minding when he changed step by step clothes in favor of a dark-green pyjama plus black slippers while remaining in his probably absurd position.  
Now and then she conversed with him.  
Cecilia admitted, that the dragon had surprised her in the morning when he summoned Markab. Even more, when she realized Ramuh's mind rested within the mount. At the most, however, was the Primal's choice to accompany her 'boyfriend' astonishing the maiden. Of course she had acted unperturbed plus calm as long as Haurchefant, Augustine and Estinien were around – since Ramuh didn't reveal his presence to mentioned friends – but in truth the novelty was overwhelming her.  
Smiling, Midgardsormr explained how much he himself had been irritated.  
As a dragon, he despised Primals, yet the Sylph's patron was acting like a generous creature so far. Thanks to Ramuh's teachings, the Methuselah knew also a few more things about the false gods – knowledge he should have obtained much earlier. The Raen agreed on this decision; it was important to be aware of a Primal's history as well as motives in order to beat them.  
'Midge' admitted, that he wasn't sure if he could really tolerate Ramuh's presence for a longer while. Even though the old mage consumed no aether, he was still a summoned existence that threatened to bring the planet harm... Cecilia asked Midgardsormr to grant Ramuh at least this small chance, since the later demonstrated good intentions with his current actions.  
Unwillingly, the dragon-father promised her to not destroy this spirit without a real reason.

Her sewing must have lasted twenty minutes when she voiced tiredness.  
Nodding, the dragon-father stood up. His arms were cautiously wrapped around the maiden when he softly stated: “Fine, then we shall bring you to bed.” His lips touched afterwards her horn-like, right ear while he lifted the Au Ra into his embrace. Once 'Midge' held her tightly, Cecilia nestled up to him; like a small child who blindly trusted its parent. She let him carry her to the mattress without any complaint.  
Midgardsormr was thanks that reminded of the times when his own children were small plus helpless. They had been clinging to him in similar manner – fragile and convinced of his benignity. And just as she did now, his offspring had been struggling to let go of him when he put them into their sleeping-berths. Clawing into his shoulders with visible discontent about the loss of contact.  
He wondered, how a mortal was capable of having no doubts towards him.  
His species had been declared to be mankind's enemy... All humans in Eorzea had been taught to consider dragons as deadly monsters who were willing to destroy them for no reason. And even while she thought differently, he had originally faced her on the Agrius with the intention to injure that stranger severely if she might be another traitor led by Ishgard's intrigue... In the worst case, Midgardsormr wouldn't have hesitated to take one more life if necessary...  
The Methuselah placed gently the blanket over this wondrous Au Ra.  
Ah... How wondrous, yes...  
The beauty she possessed had distracted him from his aggressivity once his ghostly eyes lay on her. It gave Midgardsormr enough room to look over the plate – like she had back then stated when she explained her motivation for visiting his grave. And indeed... He had only noticed her pity and grief when the hues of these odd-colored eyes drew his attention. Had only given a single chance to proof her uprightness because this pretty face with these soft white scales made him see her sorrow.  
That indirect kind of favor, however, was these days surely not what made her in return trust him; caged in this changed vessel. Oh... Well, actually, his puppet-like corpus as well as his true body weren't things that could appear soothing in mortal eyes. Mostly not the later.  
As he made sure Cecilia would lay comfortable, the dragon was slightly upset... This form granted by Hydaelyn had probably been the first appealing shape he possessed since the Raen knew him. The displeasure became stronger as the knowledge about their troublesome room-equipment returned to his consciousness.  
“Why are you angry?” ,the Raen interrupted his thoughts with muted words, “Does it annoy you when I obviously cling too much to you?”  
Puzzled, 'Midge' stared for a moment at Cecilia. Her worry was surprising...  
After the first perplexity was gone, he shook his head and smiled helplessly: “I do not mind this... Somehow, it makes me happy when a human can trust me like my own children did in the past... But I do not know how to act. Erik's lie might have protected me so far, yet I want to get rid of it. And with the privacy this chamber offers, there is no necessity to behave like your boyfriend. Without an accurate piece of furniture, however, there is no place for this body to rest...”  
Her mien became gloomy. “Really? This nonsense again? Tss, I bet you wouldn't reflect on anything if you still had your puppet-form. If I told you then, I'd like to share the mattress with you, there wouldn't be any problem at all if your shape possessed no humanity.” the maiden noticed with a toxic tune as she glared at him with reproachful eyes.  
Closing his lids, Midgardsormr tilted the head minimal down. “Perhaps you are right... In a body similar to a doll, I was no longer caring for my original aversion for sharing the sleeping-berth with a mortal creature. Maybe I'd even do this as a full-grown exemplar of my own species... An adult... But not like this. Not when you and your brother guard me with a lie I as a dragon can't bear.”  
Something soft hit him abruptly right in the face. Opening his eyes, the disguised antiquity realized with bewilderment, that Cecilia had thrown a cushion at him.  
While he took the object and placed it back, the fuming Au Ra sulked: “Look what a racist you are. It doesn't matter which shape you possess – your train of thoughts is still the same. Unbelievable, how much you can alter your harsh idea of us people in exchange for some kind of fondness, while you can't bring yourself to treat yourself like a normal guy. And just to make that clear: I do NOT mean your vessel. I mean the way you separate yourself from the rest of us – just as if there has to be a fence which keeps you away from everybody else.”  
“Am I really treating mortals in a different manner than before? And do I honestly handle myself like a foreign body compared to your kind despite all my effort to be unobtrusive?” he questioned with tense shoulders; uncomfortable with her statements similar to Ramuh's realizations.  
Cecilia stayed silent for a moment before she finally snorted: “Sleep in my bed and I'll answer you.” “That's blackmailing!” the dragon reacted nervously. She rolled her odd-colored eyes and grumbled: “Then stay there or lay down on the floor--- or do whatever you want. I don't care for that when you find it so disgusting to cuddle with me.”  
Midgardsormr jerked as he heard these words. Her harshness was unusual, yet the meaning behind her words was what frightened him. The maiden did truthfully not treat him like a stranger because of his shape. In her opinion he was an equivalent creature – something so disturbing and simultaneously pleasing, that he was over-strained by her straightforwardness.  
'Midge' quivered when she touched his right hand.  
“You have some traits in common with my dad, you know? It hurts when you think you must do several things just in order to save face or to fit into any social world-view. Unimportant, if it is for other dragons or us mortals... Like my dad you try way too much to be considerate of decency.”  
Her words made him furrow his brows. Fatherhood... Part of him was deeply satisfied when she compared him to her parent. Another part of him denied this with all might. It had been the same in Central Coerthas; right before that heretic failed the assassination... But now Midgardsormr was caged in a mortal shape. A corpus that was as young as hers. Just grown into its final size.  
“It is disturbing when you say I resemble your father...” he confessed quietly. “I'm aware of that.” ,she sighed, “Yet it's the truth. And you know me – I am not afraid of voicing what is right to me. So, I tell you, that your behavior frustrates me. I do not like this seeking of yours for draconic or mortal standards. For what do you care for these things, even? Just do what YOU want! Especially, when only you and me are here. There's no need to bind yourself to any morales which have nothing to do with us.”  
“What I want...?” the Methuselah repeated lost in thoughts.  
He hadn't done anything in ages which was not bound to Hydaelyn's contract. The first time Midgardsormr was doing anything led by mere instincts must have been all these odd interactions with Cecilia in the very first days he accompanied her. At least he knew, that Her grace had been reason for him to not harm Ishgard's inhabitants when they slayed his daughter. That he had protected the Silvertear Lake due to being the Mothercrystal's servant, in first place. Not because of sentimentality towards the place he had come to call his personal home.  
The Au Ra tipped impatient several times against the back of his hand.  
'Midge' frowned in confusion while he watched this; not accustomed to such childish actions.  
She was obviously sleepy, but her voice sounded nevertheless resolute: “I can't force you right now, so please do exceptionally what you would like to – instead of making me the bad girl who pushes you around. You hate being treated like a doll, which I would really love to respect if you could just let me have this chance.” His heartbeat accelerated when Cecilia tried to squeeze his hand firmly despite her weak body. “Why does this mean so much to you...?” he barely managed to ask.  
She scrutinized him as if he was a stupid child – something the ancient being found very insulting.  
Cecilia's voice wasn't very loud despite all the pugnacity she threw now at him: “I may not have spent a freaking whole month without you, but this last day was enough for me to go almost mad because of this strange distance you kept thanks to the doctors! With nobody else being around now, I hardly can stay patient when all you do is doubting your right to be here! You care sweetly for me just as my own dad would--- you even share at times his bad sense of humor! But still you find it wrong to be close to me when it comes to simply sleeping! No idea, why you think it would be an intimate thing to share the mattress – I just know it's driving me insane when you refuse my offering so vehemently! Fuck, I hate this!”  
He shuddered under her anger that was exactly like the one of a dragon.  
Even in her weakened condition, she somehow impressed him. Above all, the Raen scared him when she cursed like males usually did – at least he felt like that outburst here wasn't her feminine side speaking to him. Although Cecilia's body was female, her personality was clearly androgynous. He might have only realized this, when she spent back then the night with Augustine, but it was anyways a knowledge he couldn't get out of his head.  
Just as... the wonderment how much he meant to the maiden...  
Softly, he held that silky hand of hers. Allowed his fingers to wander over the rosy skin and these pearlescent nails plus scales. It wasn't his intention to calm Cecilia down; he just wanted to feel her. For an unknown reason, relief spread through his system when he interiorized her strong wish to return to the intimacy they had before she fell into the coma. He became... hungry, in a specific way, when he thought about it. Midgardsormr himself needed this bond which connected them. And even if he could no longer endure Erik's falsehood with a silent conscience, the dragon would for now give in to Cecilia's plea for sharing the sleeping-berth with each other.  
When he came to her, the maiden's eyes widened in surprise. Cheeks below confused crystal and jewel discolored in beautiful rosé as his slippers landed on the ground – emphasizing the decision to stay in this bed. Hehe... The view of Cecilia's wonderment let him almost forget, how tense and nervous his corpus was to lay down next to her. She was amusing when she couldn't save face.  
Still... The drum in his chest pounded a loud beat while he placed his head into the cushions – surely noisy enough for her to hear it. And indeed Cecilia raised the brows, whereby he stopped breathing for a moment to suppress his heart's motions somehow.  
He jerked when her right hand touched the upper part of his body with careful fingertips. There, where his overreacting muscle stirred... The maiden even put soon her palm onto his chest. Watching him with fully awake eyes despite her tiredness. Meanwhile, Cecilia's hand gripped his pullover's fabric with a slight tremolo. Nails almost scratching his skin underneath the clothing because of her uncontrolled pressure.  
“It's only for tonight, isn't it?” she wanted to know; barely audible for mortal ears. A faint smile flitted over his lips: “You see perfectly through me... Yes.” Cecilia wasn't happy about his decision – that was unmistakable. Her face was darkening in sadness while these odd-colored irises appeared dimmer than mortal eyes normally were. But the Au Ra wasn't yet giving up on convincing him. Her left arm entangled his hip; she pressed her head against his neck. This hand on his chest clawed tightly into the fabric, which made her nails ultimately pierce his skin.  
Midgardsormr should be angry thanks to this disrespectful action.  
His magnetism towards her annulled ironically all wrath and filled him instead up with a sentiment he could only identify as egoistic desire. He yearned for the way she treated him; the way she didn't hold anything back. This young mortal who ridiculed him – just as light the moths – had the power to turn him into a willingness pawn.  
Inhaling harshly, the dragon whispered subsequent with a throaty voice: “If it has to be... As long as we stay in Limsa Lominsa, I will do as you please. But once we return to Ishgard, I shall rest in another bed or chamber than you.” He immediately knew this beautiful smile spread over her face; her arm around his hip loosened the aching pressure also noticeably. Cecilia moved minimal away from his chest just in order to place her head closer to his own – letting him see her satisfaction.  
“For now that's all I wanted.” she replied; eyes sparkling in joy. Pure torture for him...  
Afterwards, Midgardsormr didn't feel well to join her under the blanket. But she wore that long nightgown and he this pyjama, so in the end it should be okay to follow her forceful invitation... Though there was nothing soothing about this moment. He was nervous how her naked feet sought for contact with his own. How close her gorgeous mien was now when she snuggled up once more. How much this powerless body could nevertheless press itself against his vessel...  
Huffing, he murmured: “I swear I'll die because of you...”  
Cecilia's response was a wordless embrace; gentle and affectionate. Her hands vanished slightly under the fabric on his shoulders, whereby he obtained goosebumps due to the unexpected touch. When he hesitantly answered the hug – even though less cheeky with his hands staying politely on her back over the dress – the maiden told him softly: “I'm glad when you do this... You should turn your conscience more often off, you know... It makes me very happy when you're simply yourself... After all, I never truly minded these patronizing hoaxes of yours...”  
The dragon blushed to think of them. These moments, when he had stopped to consider the results of his actions, so that he unleashed the fondness in his heart... Shivering a little, he shook the head. “Acting impolite or rather brainless appears to me not like a good quality...” the Methuselah mumbled unsettled while her fingers massaged his muscles.  
“You despise lies. I do the same. So it's good when you don't feel the need of concealing anything.” she whispered chuckling; placing a kiss onto his cheek. Midgardsormr closed the eyes and snuffled her scent as a wave of longing rushed through his corpus. He couldn't deny it... The addiction to her became worse and worse...  
His right hand wandered up to the back of her head. The fingers dove right into her silky strands of white-gold while he uttered shaking: “We must sleep now... Otherwise I cannot tell what I would do to you...” She was probably staring at him; he could feel her gaze on his face. But 'Midge' didn't have the willpower to look once more at the maiden... Her sudden, audible smile surprised him: “That's okay... I'm also not sure how to handle this here... We're clearly stuck in something that matches neither friendship between two beings NOR the bond of a father and his daughter...”  
He was terrified at the fact how easily she grasped their situation... On the other hand, at least nothing about this strange bond had to be explained... Forcing himself to stay calm, the dragon waited for Cecilia to fall asleep. Only when she slumbered peaceful in his arms, Midgardsormr was finally able to obtain some rest, too, since her breathing had a soothing effect on him.

The whole night he was dreaming about Cecilia's child-version that his brain had constructed.  
Although... she was not the only one who occupied these illusions. This heavenly dragon had also decided to show up – as much as something created by Midgardsormr's subconsciousness was able to possess an own mind. The Methuselah wondered, why his brain's ill humor dared to constantly mock him... But well, he grasped pretty clearly for what reason his dream looked the way it did. Why it was charming yet frustrating...  
The little girl with her elvish smile and flimsy white dress symbolized the innocence he witnessed whenever Cecilia's naive plus good side was in charge. That part of hers was after all what made him wish to be her father; was what he desired to protect from all pain in the world. Her generosity as well as loveliness warmed his heart deeply, hence the dragon felt lost whenever he had to live without it. Felt relieved... because the sweet hallucination stayed close to him.  
The feathery, wyvern-like savior, however...  
He symbolized everything else which drew Midgardsormr to the Raen. She was proud, courageous and intelligent like that creature – for humane standards Cecilia was even similar powerful and impressive. These traits kept her away just as these wings which carried the beautiful dragon through the air; far away from the Methuselah.  
Still... There was more to the savior than just these parts which matched the precious mortal... Although it was a male existence, the magnetism he emitted on the Primogenitor didn't differ from the maiden's. They were like... two sides of the same coin. Cecilia and the heavenly being...  
When 'Midge' woke up, his head was heavy and consumed by this dream.  
Every nerve in his corpus was prickling due to all these not combinable sentiments. Because of that, he didn't notice instantly his vessel's incapability of moving. But once the insight reached his brain, the Methuselah gasped in shock. Looking initially panic-fueled around, it dazzled him to find quickly the cause for that immobility: The maiden.  
He didn't know how her sleeping body was able to, yet she had actually 'paralyzed' him. Via putting every possible cell onto his disguise, to be precise. Cecilia had turned him into her private mattress; slept here so innocently, that it was impossible to act rude towards the young woman. Her presence on his corpus had also not disturbed his sleep enough to wake him up, after all. Furthermore... Although she was light as a feather thanks to her loss of weight, he couldn't convince himself of returning her to the real sleeping-berth. She was pleasantly warm; for this ancient heat-addict unarguably a welcome occurrence. And with remonstration coming merely from his left arm, altering this situation a little wasn't all too necessary...  
Cecilia's head lay on his chest while she slumbered peaceful like a kitten. Clinging to the fabric below his wrists and pressing the thighs against his legs. Her stomach was in similar way laying on his lap; there was this noticeable amount of pressure. A little bit as if... she was seeking for shelter.  
Hm... It was actually surprising to learn, that the position which her subconsciousness chose depended on her environment... As he had been sleeping by her side in his hilarious puppet-shape, the Au Ra was always holding him in protective manner. Hence Midgardsormr had simply expected she would be in general somebody who shielded others even in her sleep. Not somebody who could also wish to be guarded.  
Tsk, the vessel's arm demanded help more urgently...  
When the disguised dragon tried to move his numb limb away, the Raen held on to it as if she feared to lose something important. Or rather, as if she would be exposed to great evil without that thing underneath her. Somehow, Cecilia even appeared happy when he ended resigned the struggle – there was a faint sound that came close to giggling... What a frustrating moment...  
Albeit he doubted it might be a good idea, 'Midge' tried another method. He sought to get at least another position by holding her hands and maneuvering the Au Ra slightly to the side. This didn't work out all too well, because she immediately convolved on his upper part of the body... However, with his arm being finally free, any complaining appeared truthfully out of place.  
Stretching all four limbs thanks to the regained liberty, the Methuselah could nevertheless not resist the possibility of framing Cecilia's fragile shape with both arms. He followed his draconic instincts to protect his powerless treasure with that simple, yet meaningful gesture. Ah... Thinking like this appeared probably arrogant... But he did really not follow such ugly opinion right now.  
Even though she moved almost normally while her corpus lay on a mattress, the weakened system had still not regained its original strength. With that, he felt the need for shielding his maiden even more than usually. And despite the fact that she wasn't awake, this little sign of hers to seek per will for his protection made him undeniable happy. Actually...  
The bare possibility of being finally able to return all these kind favors Cecilia had given to him – that hilarious dragonet – filled Midgardsormr up with pride. That impact became stronger just by the way she relaxed in his embrace. Her subconsciousness wanted his guard – a conclusion meaning much more to him than he was able to describe. If the Methuselah could have been now the dragon he used to be millennia ago, the whole situation would be perfect. Mentioned form – big enough to carry a few humans on his back – should suffice entirely to match the role of her guardian.  
However...  
She was obviously satisfied with him; no matter which shape.  
Bewitched like he was by her unconditionally trust, Midgardsormr could consider himself satisfied, too, for the present. Despite his wish to obey Hydaelyn's contract as the giant serpent he truly was because of his age, he was willing to exist for the rest of his life as a mortal ally by Cecilia's side. 'Midge' might not have given the Raen an eternal promise as well, yet he felt gradually bound to her in a manner not even the loyalty to the Mothercrystal could surpass.  
Thinking like this... should frighten him. But it didn't...

Rich flavor of Limsa Lominsa's cuisine ran down his throat.  
Other, than Ishgard's salty meals, this food made him indeed not wish for Erik's admittedly fabulous cooking-skills. At least nothing he had tasted so far on La Noscea reminded of the awful opinion these wannabe-gourmets in the Holy City preached. In other words...  
With the gruff Marauder's absence, 'Midge' should thank the Twelve for sending adequate staffers to the Drowning Wrench. If that easement would just suffice to lull another turmoil...  
While the disguised dragon ate together with Cecilia dinner, he couldn't help but be frustrated despite the warm pork-flesh in his mouth. Today... was ultimately a point of time which made Midgardsormr yearn for getting rid of that falsehood-cage...  
Admiral Merlwyb had been visiting his maiden in the early afternoon.  
The female Roegadyn wanted to meet Cecilia in person instead of just listening by accident to news of the Au Ra's recovery, hence she took a bit time for talking with her. Of course the Raen was delighted by this... While the two women conversed, Merlwyb expressed once more guilt-feelings due to not supporting the Warriors of Light back then in Ul'Dah. However, the Admiral apologized for that because she was convinced of bearing a part of the fault for Cecilia's accident. If she had offered shelter for them, the adventurers might have stayed away from Coerthas. Away from war and heretic-conflicts. Thus, nobody would have tried to kill Erik's sister.  
Midgardsormr couldn't care less for these words – they were empty to him notwithstanding Merlwyb's honest regret. But what he quickly cared for... was the Admiral's knowledge about Cecilia's 'boyfriend'. The false identity his vessel bore... Including Alberic's 'gift'...  
Merlwyb had told him, how much his work was appreciated. That the Adventurer Guild needed more men like him who were extending their qualifications. His story – a pure gatherer becoming Coerthas' newest Dragoon – left also a strong impression on eager newcomers if they heard of him. These people became because of his career additionally motivated to catch up with the current top – and their strengthened ambitions were for the city-states a blessing.  
Truth be told: Midgardsormr found Merlwyb's praise over-exaggerated.  
He thought still ill of the 'honor' to be recognized by that Admiral, while he ate nevertheless in apparently peaceful manner the meal on his plate. If an adventurer could be such a good example in the eyes of others, than it was most likely to end up as another pawn of men. No matter how good Merlwyb's intention might be... This female Roegadyn was just one more leader who sought at first for her own benefits – and these had nothing to with anything outside of La Noscea.  
Yet... This was not what made him wrathful when he reflected too much on it... Rather, the dragon was unhappy to find even in Merlwyb's resolute, rather unsentimental gaze clear admiration. Unbelievable to imagine a tough Admiral like her in a romantic mood, but that's what it had been... She was enjoying 'Midge's' determination to support Cecilia.  
Of course Merlwyb hadn't emphasized her opinion with too flowery words. When she had shortly mentioned his consideration plus gentleness, there weren't any soft tunes her voice made. However, as an antique creature, Midgardsormr could see through the rough shell. And these ice-cold eyes had spoken a language louder than her gun could be.  
“Does your food taste awful? You pull a long face as if it was sour.”  
The sweet sound of his maiden got him out of the unpleasant memories.  
Looking at Cecilia, he saw with satisfaction an empty plate in front of hers. This made him smile while he replied: “No, everything is fine. I was just lost in thoughts. But I suppose your dinner tasted exquisite when you're already done.” The Raen blushed and lowered her head. “U-Uhm, well, I was pretty hungry... Actually, I could still eat a refill...” she admitted and glanced minimal up.  
The disguised antiquity couldn't help but smirk mischievously.  
“If you let me finish, I'll bring you more food. Would that be to your liking?” he suggested gently. Cecilia beamed like a child as she nodded – warming his heart and making him forget the annoying meeting with Merlwyb. Part of him wished to sit side by side instead of occupying opposite stools due to formality, because there was once more this awful yearning for physical contact in his chest... Yet Midgardsormr suppressed this wish and rather hurried to devour his own dinner for the benefit of the dear Au Ra.  
Following, he walked quickly to the kitchen with the dispensable crockery as well as Cecilia's plate. 'Midge' asked the cook for half as much as before; not willing to overdo anything since she could always have more nutriment in case her stomach could already handle a greater portion. However, he begged for an extra splosh considering the sauce, since he had noticed the maiden's approval even while she wasn't speaking of her preference for that dressing.  
Approaching their dinning-table, the dragon-father was glad about his choice.  
His precious mortal looked excited once she could see the refill; her smile was bright and innocent. She hardly contained impatience as the Methuselah carried her meal. Hah... He could in moments like this one truly fall for the imagination to call her a daughter... She was so sweet when she acted with the unconcern of a normal, young woman... One without sorrows...  
When he was about to put the plate down, suddenly a passerby bumped into him. It was a Roegadyn who had probably some booze in his system – Midgardsormr was at least able to smell the hint of stinging liquid coming from that mariner. Anyways, the collision with that man shook his left arm, whereby the environment was widely splattered with some big drops of sauce.  
Although 'Midge' himself wasn't affected, he became angry to watch a mess on the table as well as on the maiden. That the stranger apologized didn't help him to gain control over his growing anger... It rather made every spark of petulance worse. Had he still been the puppet, a salvo of blue fire might now burn the Roegadyn's hair down...  
Using a moist rag which was hastily borrowed from the kitchen, the disguised dragon cleaned mentioned piece of furniture. Meanwhile, his maiden tried to care for herself with a table-napkin. The stains, unfortunately, couldn't be removed anymore. It was obvious – still she rubbed the fabric with a sullen expression. Once Midgardsormr was finished with his own task, he stated resigned: “Can't be helped, Cecilia... We should wash your clothes. Don't ruin your mood with this nonsense.” Tsk, an advise he should better give himself... He was boiling in anger underneath the softness reserved for his maiden...  
“I fear my robe isn't the worst case here.” she declared and tugged at the material under her neck. “Oh no... Don't tell me...” the Methuselah began before he fell completely silent since his eyes noticed finally the sauce on her neck-scales. Cecilia snorted lowly: “It's quite sticky. Everywhere. As if there was glue attached to me. My hair feels also not right... I don't mind eating the refill nevertheless, but afterwards, I should really, reeeaaally take a bath.”  
Gulping, the antique being sat quietly down; trying to not think about the path that vanished under the fabric on her chest. To care not for the skin which must be deliciously dirty... Actually it should amuse him to reflect in lieu of the nuisance on her healthy appetite. With that, she should develop very soon a stable physical condition. But this excuse could not endlessly distract him...  
In truth, he wished for getting ASAP rid of the icky situation... If she wouldn't clearly need to regain her weight, the disguised dragon would have already carried her to the usual employee.  
Once she was done, he returned her dishes to the kitchen before lifting Cecilia into his arms.  
With her belly being noticeable filled, the dragon was reminded of the day he gained a mortal vessel – her shape felt now as pleasantly heavy as back then. This soothed his rage a little, though 'Midge' was still angry enough to easily attack the next-best mortal...  
Only pure willpower kept him from doing so.

They couldn't find the usual Miqo'te.  
Seemingly, that woman was enjoying already leisure-time – and there was at the moment no other female worker present. When Cecilia suggested to ask simply a visitor of the Drowning Wrench for lending a helping hand, the Twelve seemed to mock her idea, as the only other woman in the hall had already left while they looked for the employee.  
Midgardsormr leaned frustrated his head into the nape of his neck.  
He couldn't help but huff under the bad luck his well-meant gesture had brought.  
Praying still for a wonder, 'Midge' brought the Au Ra nevertheless to the guest-bathroom's entrance. But of course nobody was around who they could have asked for assistance...  
“Well, I guess I have to wash myself without help and stand later up alone.” the maiden in his arms stated unperturbed. Shaking his head determined, Midgardsormr opened the bath's door and waltzed into the chamber. Then, he locked it behind them under Cecilia's skeptical gaze.  
While the disguised dragon was about to bring her to the large tub, she questioned with raised bows: “Am I allowed to ask, what you want to do here?” Pausing his motions, 'Midge' responded with a stern expression: “You will not clean yourself without support. As long as you can barely stand on your own feet, there's no option that I would let you alone.”  
The maiden tilted her head to the right – eyeballing him skeptically as he continued to carry her. When the father of dragon-kind placed her carefully onto the edge, she folded her arms as a clear sign of disapproval. Saying no word to him. But after a short moment of silence, she uttered finally: “But you’re always nervous when I wear not much. And taking a bath in order to wash oneself requires above all even less clothes. … ZERO clothes.”  
Knitting his brows in suppressed anger, the Methuselah was not at all hesitating to resolutely reply: “I am now mortal. Thanks to that, I should definitely get used to humane shapes sooner than later. Yours won't affect me with this thought in mind, trust me.” “That self-confidence would rather make sense if you possessed your true shape. Or at least the baby-like form. … A dragon who feels nervousness thanks to me alias my body won't stop doing so just because his visible physique changed into a humane one.” the maiden noticed down-to-earth.  
Mentally growling, the antiquity channeled his frustration so that it helped him to ignore her logic. Following, 'Midge' turned the tub's water-flow on and closed the plughole. “Don't discuss with me.” ,he ordered a bit snarky, “I will help you – whether you like it or not. So, get rid of these clothes. And I mean NOW.” Cecilia snorted unimpressed, but did as he had told her. This was a relief... Midgardsormr didn't know in the current moment, how much he would be able to stay calm in case she had still denied the support...  
He was in spite of his bad mood tenderly touching the Raen's limbs – swiftly yet gently helping her out of the fabric. The view of her rosy skin and pearlescent scales was wonderful in the warm light of Limsa's lamps. Similar to the beauty her mien possessed once she began to smile peacefully. When only her underwear remained, the Au Ra undressed in the first instance her chest by herself, although he could sense her strong hesitation for doing so. That averseness was highly visible even while that smirk on her lips wasn't fading.  
“So worried about a senile old dragon?” he asked partly amused; partly glad when the last piece concealing her lower part of the body went down her legs. “Of course I am. What else should I be? You're you, after all.” Her serious response combined with this half-hearted giggle and compassionate eyes made him chuckle relaxed. She was so sweet to care for him...  
Gently gripping her hands, Midgardsormr brought Cecilia slowly to her feet. When she stood more or less safely on the floor, he turned the water-flow off. “There you go. Don't rush. Take your time.” 'Midge' advised as he carefully led the maiden into the large tub. Her hand in his own tensed clearly, but nevertheless Cecilia trusted him when the camouflaged dragon-father supported her weight in the moment she stepped into the steaming water. These long legs were shaking a lot when they bent, yet their owner was still allowed to sank unhurried down.  
“Thank you.” she said with a sound as smooth as a welcome breeze in spring.  
He withdrew from the maiden with a soft smile. Yet... his attention inhaled her whole presence in this very moment. And it made the Methuselah realize... that he had lied to himself. Her shape was still affecting him. It needed just the simple view of her body – bared and beautiful like an angel – to encourage his heartbeat. Once all focus on his purpose was gone, there was no distraction from the magnetism...  
Swallowing the unsettledness as good as possible down, 'Midge' stepped behind the tub. Gave her one of two washcloths. With a grateful grin Cecilia accepted the object – eyes sparkling. When she immediately began to clean her chest to get rid of the sticky sauce, he decided to take meanwhile care of Cecilia's back and shoulders. The maiden hummed happily as Midgardsormr rubbed her skin with the second washcloth; not minding the help at all. She even tilted the head a little bit forward, so that the dragon had easier access to her neck.  
While touching the Raen, 'Midge' made nonstop sure to put not too much pressure into each motion. Her bones were fragile compared to his own species, thus rubbing the few drops from her skin couldn't be too forceful. Above all, the sticky sauce was hard to remove. That was probably due to cheese being one of the ingredients... But enough strokes with the soaked washcloth made the stains nevertheless slowly vanish.  
Gazing at him over her right shoulder, the Au Ra asked abruptly: “Am I allowed to wash my clothes later by myself? Or do I have to rely on your mercy to get my outfit back in a clean condition?” Chuckling minimal, Midgardsormr caressed the nape of her neck with his free left hand in affectionate manner; relishing it. “We can do this together if you're fine with my next suggestion.” “And that is...?” the maiden questioned curious.  
Reflecting just in case on his wish to behave not too contumelious, the disguised dragon was quiet for a short moment; brows furrowed in unsettledness. Then, he voiced his thought with a small, yet devilish smile: “I... would like to wash your hair.” Cecilia looked away from him, but he could see the darkened color of her cheeks. She visibly bit into her mouth before a shy answer coming from these petal-lips followed: “That's... something I'd enjoy.”  
Her reaction surprised him.  
Not the fact that she approved his offering, no... Rather the way his maiden avoided eye-contact with him was irritating. Midgardsormr couldn't tell why such gesture should embarrass her, so he was only able to make rough guesses. And since she had been angry for his original wish to share not the sleeping-berth with her, the Methuselah concluded something about his facial expression must have abashed her...  
Feeling paralyzed when he tried to speak with her about the odd situation, the dragon decided to better make himself useful instead of wasting time. And there was only one thing he could do now... Wordless, 'Midge' made Cecilia understand, that he wanted to begin with the hair-wash. She nodded silently in response; still blushing with the hue of a beet. But the maiden wasn't too over-whelmed by the embarrassment, because she leaned her head willingly against his hands when he moistened plus massaged shampoo into her silky, straight hair.  
To be honest... Midgardsormr enjoyed this task deeply. He couldn't get enough.  
Her blind trust into him was probably the strongest drug she could give him – a feeling 'Midge' wasn't able to overcome. She might be abashed by his devotion, but all the more Cecilia confirmed the intensity her faith into him owned, all the more his draconic mind was high as if on cloud nine. Unbelievable, that such an ancient thing like him was thanks to a mortal granted with youthful joy... True joy that lightened his heart.

Gently, the disguised dragon poured water over her head.  
Once no lather was left, he couldn't help but touch the wet cascade of white-gold once more. Although dragons possessed handsome scales, there was something about the mortal peculiarity which appealed generally a lot to him. That affinity existed longer than his humane vessel.  
While her shining strands ran through his fingers, he whispered mesmerized: “It's beautiful...” Cecilia laughed gently – finally defrosted from her dilemma. “Thank you. In fact, it's mom's hair. The consistence and hair-cut, to be correct. She was actually a natural blonde, but with a pale hue. My golden hair-tips as well as the vanilla-white color come from my Dad.” she explained calmly.  
Stroking softly over the back of her head, 'Midge' hesitantly asked: “How... looked your mother, elsewise? Did you resemble her...?” “Uhm, if you ignore my hair- and eye-color...” ,Cecilia began, “...I'm pretty much a copy of my mom. Of course she was older than me and wore a decent amount of make-up. And her irises were two orbs of lavender. Above all... her talent as a fighter as well as magician was far over my current limit. But... I am closer to her than the majority of other people; that's for sure.”  
Imagining another Raen who looked a lot like the maiden made his stomach stir in nervousness. Augustine did already irritate him at times, to be fair, but practically an older version of his mortal could be a total undoing for his ancient nerves. After all, he was betimes wondering against his will, how this girl might look like... if she reached the majority of... a mother...  
Shaking his head slightly, he tried to distract himself.  
Cecilia's skin was already cleaned when he restarted to wash her back, yet the Au Ra enjoyed Midgardsormr's additional attention. She sought noticeable for the physical contact with his hands – pressed her bones against his palms. With her eyes being closed, there was no doubt the maiden savored this moment even though she had protested before against his care. She was a proud one, yet convincing this stubborn being was in the end not as challenging as one should assume.  
The dragon couldn't help but smile audible about her satisfaction.  
Her lids swung minimal open as if 'Midge' had given a cue.  
The Au Ra glanced at him with an expression similar to small children; if not even close to toddlers. A kind of shyness he found troublesome to handle when it wasn't for the pretty little hallucination his sleeping brain created. After all, the dragon was aware of her intelligence no matter how much the sweetness she possessed might be distracting from this fact.  
Cecilia studied him for moment without breathing.  
Then, she cautiously asked: “I know you have children, but... You were not born out of thin air, right? You also have some kind of... parents?” A strange, almost ridiculous question. Hilarious. “Why should I not have ancestors, so to speak? An origin of my life? This worry does not sound like the smart girl I know.” he noticed chuckling.  
Mentioned maiden looked away from him. Her head hung down when she mumbled: “This means... there, where you lived until the Agrius attacked Mor Dhona, a force exists which creates beings of almost eternal lifespan?”  
Considering her odd words for a few seconds in silent astonishment, he stated finally: “I must admit I remember only poorly the childhood of mine. Even if I would be indirectly the creation of a deity, I would hardly be able to recognize it as such. … I know about the legend how the species Au Ra came to existence. The two gods who created the very first of your kind. … Probably, every being on Hydaelyn is in the end a child of the Mothercrystal. In one way or another, at least. Therefore, don't be ashamed to question my origin, please.”  
He hadn't immediately realized, that his carefree statement before was hurting her feelings. Even as Midgardsormr seriously answered to the topic, he was not instantly detecting his mistake... When he reflected honestly on it, making fun of the maiden felt wrong. Not only because she was an Au Ra, which was after all her motivation to question his origin. Rather because of her unusual personality; the way she was nonstop willing to understand him completely.  
With that, calming her worry with a short, additional sentence seemed not appropriate enough in 'Midge's' prehistoric opinion. But he didn't get the chance to correct his earlier misconduct since Cecilia switched topic: “But Hydaelyn herself is not your mother, as much as I know?”  
What an idea...  
If the dragon had been a child of the Mothercrystal, many fights in his past wouldn't have happened. So much violence that could have been avoided by simply making him a legitimate inhabitant of this planet... Instead of an alien creature, who fought for his mere life on a foreign star. Far away from Eorzea. Had he been ab initio from this world, Midgardsormr would have borne more trust into humankind. This should have been reason enough to not fear the hatching of his seven eggs, back then... Above all, no enemy would have tried to imprison him and his brood...  
When the crystal and the jewel dared to gape at him, 'Midge's' mind emerged from its thoughts.  
His maiden deserved an answer, thus he replied: “No, Her grace is my benefactor. She gave me and my unborn children shelter when we needed it – I in return became the sentinel of the planet’s heart. In some way, you mortals could describe Hydaelyn as my superior mistress, but I simply prefer calling the Mothercrystal a fair-minded goddess.”  
Cecilia nodded slowly. She was once more avoiding him, yet the Raen seemed no longer depressed due to his former thoughtlessness. However, something else was obviously ruining her mood now. As gentle as he was able to – while these gloomy memories of his past still hunted his awareness – the dragon-father asked: “Is something wrong?”  
A muted sigh left her lips. Eyelids narrowed a little. Hm, so there it was again...  
This faltering determination of hers, whenever something was too uncomfortable to utter it directly, while she still clearly needed to speak up. He wondered, if his changed shape was making things harder for Cecilia, even while she declared he would be the same being in her opinion. Coping with a mortal face was surely not as easy as handling a doll's almost stock-still mien.  
“Let's continue this conversation later.” ,the Raen abruptly suggested; partially unsettled, “For now, I should get out of the water before I'm too used to the decreased gravity. Or rather, the liquid should be gone before I try to stand up.” Keeping sprouting concerns in check, the disguised dragon murmured lowly: “As you wish...”  
While his vessel walked to the other side of the tub and opened the plughole, the Methuselah sensed a sadness coming from his maiden he couldn't entirely grasp. Some of his words had most likely injured the Raen – had for sure done so, but it was not clear to him, which of them were to blame. Or why speaking of Her grace darkened Cecilia's usual brightness...  
Gripping a large, green towel from the bathroom-cabinet, 'Midge' returned to the Au Ra – resembling an old butler focused on his task when he waited for the water to disappear sufficiently. As soon as only a puddle remained, the Methuselah knelt slowly down; offering open arms so that she would be able to hold on to him.  
Actually, he hadn't reflected on the gesture itself, since his fatherly instincts told him what to do. But the big eyes Cecilia made now were perspicuously informing the dragon about his mistake – thus he realized very late how inappropriate his doing appeared... It was in fact embarrassing when 'Midge' understood the impropriety she saw in his behavior. Yet, the decision had been made; negating his offering was out of question.  
The soft towel was apart from his clothes the only thing between the two of them when Cecilia leaned herself hesitating against his upper part of the body. Her chest lay on his beating heart when she took hold of the shirt on his shoulders; clearly more strength within her hands than expected. The physical contact made him nervous – worse than before, as his original boiling anger was meanwhile deflagrated.  
He somehow managed it to pull her out of the tub, but once their touch was nothing else but a close, almost intimate embrace, Midgardsormr ultimately lost control over his shaking stilts.  
The disguised dragon slipped like a silly mortal and tumbled like an inept cat.  
Fortunately, the fuzzy, thick carpet underneath them prevented graver damage. When his grip wasn't enough to slow her fall, the precious maiden landed thanks to the object on something soft. She had probably hurt her back a little through the impact, but nevertheless she was fine. This made him care a bit less for his aching elbows plus knees. However...  
Their situation was pretty awkward now.  
While Cecilia stared at him with a surprised mien, 'Midge' hunkered directly over her. Their bodies separated by not more than a small distance. And her fluffy towel... lay next to them on the ground. It was unintentional when his gaze cascaded over the maiden's bared shape, but this one look was enough to let him blush with intense heat. To deeply inhale a realization which his mind was trying to reject since the last minutes...  
She was the most beautiful mortal he had ever seen. An embodiment of every positive notion which this immortal antiquity could still feel towards a human...  
His conscience regained control.  
Trembling, Midgardsormr stuttered: “I-I-I a-am s-so so-sorry...! This wasn't my intention...!”  
Quickly, he put the towel onto her body – maybe even threw it at her. Then, the Methuselah retired with a small jump from the maiden. He panted harshly while his heart pounded loud; unbearable... And his legs barely endured his weight as they were shaking...  
She scrutinized him grimly. As if his reaction was more condemnable than his impolite staring. Yet, she wrapped herself properly into the fabric. Once her shape wasn't bared anymore, her right hand reached demanding out for the dragon in humane shell. In a manner so filled with pride and oppressed anger, that one could fear her as if she was a giant exemplar of his kind...  
The Raen's fingers twitched impatient, thus he hastily gripped them.  
Midgardsormr tried to save proper space between them while pulling Cecilia to the feet, but failed because he had underestimated her willpower. These arms entangled his neck in threatening manner – crystal and jewel staring frustrated at him. After a few seconds she tilted her head to the left; snorting lowly and narrowing the eyelids.  
“Get that thought out of your head. If I would mind any gazes of yours, I surely had never allowed you as a baby-dragon to stay all the time in my near. I'm much more upset when you overreact like this here. Or when you clearly don't tell me the whole story of your reason to serve Hydaelyn.”  
Her harsh words made 'Midge' shudder.  
She saw too much through him.  
Cecilia had recognized he wasn't telling her several important details. Albeit it was his right to conceal aspects, 'Midge' was simultaneously impressed as well as frightened by her sharp mind. Yet, what truly let him shiver was the reason for her bad mood...  
Hesitantly holding her close to silently apologize, the disguised dragon asked: “Am I really so awful when I interact with you...? Is my faith into the trust you give me... still not strong enough to match the true intensity of your goodwill?” Midgardsormr held his breath when she closed the eyes and leaned her face against his left ear. “You know the answer already... After all, you are just as before unable to accept my decision to care not for the vessel you possess.”  
Gulping, the Methuselah nodded; helpless like a child despite the disguise's strength which let him for now carry the maiden whenever he wanted.  
It took lots of self-control to convince Cecilia of washing her clothes together.

Occasional wind coming from southwest blew over them.  
'Midge' stopped walking while he looked at the horizon; undecided whether or not the clouds could soon become a problem. He had listened to the weather-report before they sailed with the ferry-boat to Western La Noscea, yet the Methuselah wasn't too convinced of its accuracy. Maybe he was just nervous on this open field, but in case he wasn't seeing things, a possible storm awaited them.  
The maiden next to him paused her motions as well.  
“Midgard, don't tell me you're looking for a sign sent from the heavens to convince me of going back to Limsa Lominsa.” her half-hearted complaint reached his ears; making him smirk minimal. Turning around to gaze at Cecilia, the dragon replied: “No, I am just concerned about staying dry. Do not worry, I really plan not to constrain you.” She nodded, but her eyes told him that his words weren't the most trustworthy ones.  
He couldn't subdue a reflexive shrug plus a sad smile on his lips once the Raen continued walking. Of course his declaration had been genuine, yet he was able to comprehend her distrust. In the end, it was after all his own fault, that she doubted his confidence into her state of health...  
Since that evening when he was washing Cecilia in the bathroom, only five days had passed – and the father of dragon-kind was nonstop behaving like a mother-hen in order to pay for the mistakes he had made there. With that, he appeared probably not like the best support when she regained gradually control over her legs... His guilt-feelings were rather an obstacle than reliable help, when he reflected on his actions, yet avoiding any meddlesomeness had turned out to be impossible. 'Midge' urgently wanted to proof, how much he valued the maiden's faith, whereby he had to live with any awkwardness along the way.  
Actually, he found it hard to keep the swelling pride in his chest about her progress under control.  
Cecilia should not yet return to any battlefield, but every peaceful activity was meanwhile no longer a problem for her body. Just as if no attempted assassination had ever happened, the Raen was able to craft whatever she wanted in Limsa. With endless free-time left to use in that indirect vacation, the maiden had even joined the city-state's Culinarian-Guild – brightening clearly Erik's day once she told him the news per linkshell. And sometimes, the Au Ra sat just at Fisherman's Bottom; fishing patiently together with 'Midge' and frying afterwards their catches.  
“Have you changed your mind?” his maiden suddenly called skeptical.  
Shaking the head, Midgardsormr continued the walk; the gusts blowing less sharply against them when he was again right behind her. As they went through a gate guarded by Marauder-Roegadyns, the disguised dragon became admittedly curious... Which place of La Noscea did Cecilia want to show him so badly, that it couldn't wait until she would again be able to fight? Since he was in general no creative being, there weren't any ideas floating through his mind.  
On the other side of mentioned stony building, though, he began to regret his wonderment a little. Because the freshly served answer... wasn't to his liking...  
Cecilia cut in on his train of thoughts: “Do you remember when I ventured with you to Swiftperch because of the Nirvana? Not long before that day, I had already been visiting my friends of Western La Noscea, which is why I didn't bring you back then to this place. However, as we're currently here without anything specific to do, I suppose it would be a good idea to see my boys again.”  
Considering the positive sound her voice made amongst this declaration, she was serious about spending time with a bunch of Sahagin.  
Midgardsormr shouldn't be too surprised about this, since he knew how much the maiden was enthusiastic to befriend other species... But the fishmen weren't as peaceful as the Sylphs. Furthermore, they surely possessed far more strength than Ramuh's children. If anything happened, the 'Dragoon' would be forced to shield his maiden against dangerous creatures who used spears, too, plus were capable of water-magic; something he couldn't counter with his lack of aether...  
Wrinkling his nose, 'Midge' walked right behind Cecilia. He was nervous to see two dark Sahagins in the distance... Right on cue, she chuckled: “I wasn't talking about the average type of seaman. For what are you mistaking me? I'm not going to hold hands with any Sahagin who would easily bite my limb off.” Before the dragon could question the meaning of her words, the Au Ra grabbed his hands and led him to the left. Directly into a small, separated settlement. The place of a clearly different subspecies.  
Looking irritated around, 'Midge' mumbled: “I must admit... I didn't know, that this beast-tribe has access to more hues than blue and black... But I doubt a white color-scheme changes the mind of any creatures drastically enough to make them social towards humans.” The maiden closed her eyes and laughed lowly. “It's not about their appearance. It's about their different heart. You'll see.”

Once the Sahagins recognized her, he was indeed able to watch something. Something unexpected.  
As if they were siblings, these young fishmen gathered around the Au Ra – welcoming her happily and smiling as much as their facial textures allowed. Two of them even cordially hugged their favorite land-dweller tightly before asking questions about the newest adventures of the Warriors.  
She used this chance to introduce the 'Hyur' by her side as a good friend as well as Lancer who had just gained the title of a Dragoon. The bunch reacted excited to hear that, since they were aware of Ishgard's famous symbol-knights, plus cheered for him to have made such hard accomplishment. Their behavior – unimportant the target – resembled a manner true brothers of the maiden would apparently outlive. Filled with warmth and jollity.  
Somehow, their good mood was infectious.  
'Midge' was able to understand why Cecilia was able to call these exemplars her friends. Even when the majority of them returned to their daily routine, the dragon could considerably feel how strong their bond to his maiden was. All of them were simply happy to see her – a natural reaction common for his own kind as well when one met a dear companion.  
Hence, he let go of his doubts in consideration of the seamen.  
Though... his unsettledness emerged briefly anew when another Sahagin appeared from the waves. A creature who was a few centimeters taller than the youngsters... When it stood on the beach, fortunately its white scales became visible. These as well as a strange piece of headgear – the sign of leadership amongst this family-branch.  
In the moment this old Sahagin noticed Cecilia, a spark of content glowed in these orange fish-eyes. Obviously, a proper amount of age didn't prevent this decent clutch-father from losing face, partly... At least the fishman's shy grin strengthened Midgardsormr's impression.  
The maiden called this Sahagin by his name while she strolled happily to him – Novv. Additionally, she nicknamed the creature in an unbelievable way... 'Papa'. This dear gesture got a quick response; the Raen was gently addressed as 'daughter'.  
If this moment hadn't been enough to irritate Midgardsormr a lot, then it was the next one when Cecilia nonchalantly embraced her maritime friend. Mentioned being chuckled embarrassed, yet placed the arms around her. Holding the maiden close for several seconds. When they parted, it was more than clear that Novv was her favorite of the whole bunch – an affection the old Sahagin definitely returned with fond gazes at her mien.  
The Raen introduced 'Midge' to her friend with the same explanation Novv's children had heard.  
Admiration similar to the youngsters rapture appeared now on the old face, but luckily more politeness accompanied the emotion than in case of his impulsive family. The clutch-father kept their dignity up when he bowed slightly down and praised 'Midge's' achievement with calm words. Thus, it wasn't all too hard for the Methuselah to converse with Novv, although he was of course making sure to not disturb Cecilia's quality-time with any of her friends.  
Yet...  
As the dragon watched the non-eternal existences, he was barely able to keep something away from his consciousness... Cecilia truly interacted with Novv on a very familiar base. In other words...  
She got perfectly along with this senior. There might be some differences of opinion between her and Novv's sons, but the clutch-father himself seemed to share a mind with the maiden. Their ideals – at the most the ideal of peace – were on the same level. Strong and full of hope. Determined to end the suffering which opponents were inflicting on each other via endurance and truth.  
Ah... Had Novv been one of the Primogenitor's descendants... he would appear to be the better, logical choice for accompanying Cecilia on the long journey to either destruction or happiness...  
This thought made Midgardsormr realize, that he was jealous of the old Sahagin.  
Of course he should know better than this... His age granted him with wisdom, after all. But it... couldn't been helped anymore... The dragon envied a fishman for the closeness the later had to a chosen child... And the worst part about his situation was probably, that 'Midge' suffered not under such ill feeling because it was directed towards their father-daughter-relationship... No, this wasn't the case. It wasn't about another existence being fond of Cecilia as if she was its own child.  
The reason was... The real reason was... Tsk... Instead of Midgardsormr's parental instincts...  
A lover's fire burned in his chest. Strong and unmistakable. Curse of his humane shell.

Sighing, 'Midge' inhaled the fresh sea-breeze.  
Moved his feet lazily through cool water right beneath him.  
Together with the maiden, he fished in this very moment at Eastern La Noscea; not far away from Costa Del Sol. Enjoying this activity that appealed more to him than anything else – the perfect way to return to status quo. To let go of protective instincts which turned him into a mother-hen...  
However, the circumstances which led to this moment were still partly ruining every tranquility...  
After she was saying goodbye to her Sahagin-friends, Cecilia had suggested to show him more of the isle-state. And in order to reward him for his patience with her social shenanigans, she found it fair to indulge into his preferred activity as an adventurer.  
Midgardsormr was not really sure, if this counted as long as the Raen herself enjoyed gathering... But any appeasing task was welcome to him while the sickish jealousy in his heart wasn't vanished, yet. Therefore he sat now side by side with Cecilia; bared feet relaxing in refreshing waves.  
Trying to imprison the ugly feeling until it subsided.  
… … …  
“I doubt we will catch anything.” the Raen suddenly snorted and pulled the hook out of the water. Confused, 'Midge' eyeballed her while she put her expensive rod away with a gloomy expression; audible grinding her teeth. He faltered to ask, why she was thinking like this, but tried nevertheless once she stared at the ocean. “Is there... a reason for your belief...?”  
When Cecilia looked at him from the corners of her eyes, the crystal – closer to the dragon – appeared as cold as ice. “Of course.” ,she snarled lowly, “The dark cloud over your head. I can feel your bad mood – and I guess the animals do just the same as me. Although I doubt they care for your motivation to feel this way... Never heard a normal fish knows what jealousy is.”  
Midgardsormr widened the eyes in astonishment.  
“How can you even know...?” he breathlessly questioned once the first shock ceased.  
Studying him unhurried, she leaned her head onto the right hand. “It's obvious to me. Probably, because I myself know how jealousy feels like... Anyways, your self-esteem next to Novv appeared pretty tiny. A pathetic characteristic for such proud being like yourself.” The disguised dragon lowered his gaze as she criticized him. It was truly a talent of hers to find his vulnerable spots...  
Her following hiss sounded very frustrated.  
As if she possessed no manners at all, the maiden flicked the left index-finger harshly against Midgardsormr's forehead. “Why are you---” the dragon was about to complain, but the very same digit pressed suddenly against his lips. “I do not expect from you to swallow your anger down.” ,Cecilia told him forthright, “If you're frustrated or jealous, feel free to tell me about it. I rather take your wrath than watching how you silently suffer.”  
With burning cheeks, the father of dragon-kind furrowed his brows as the meaning of her words reached his comprehension. He didn't know what to do or say, thus his first reaction was controlled by instincts. Although... Midgardsormr regretted this headlessness in the very second his teeth dug into her finger.  
She twitched only marginally under the tight bite; not even giving a muted sound of agony.  
But the dragon could nevertheless taste liquid on his tongue – sweet like sugar with a strong resemblance to draconic blood. He instantly loosened the pressure his jaw was putting onto her digit once he realized the situation completely. Oddly enough, the maiden still didn't try to pull the finger out of his mouth. Her faith into 'Midge' wasn't injured at all.  
Cecilia confirmed his thought when she placed the free, right hand onto his face. As she started to caressed him, the maiden mumbled: “I won't tell you, that you wouldn't have the right to be jealous. That wouldn't be correct. But I can assure you, that I trust you more than anybody else in this world. No matter how close I am to my friends... You're standing above them.”  
Nervous, he felt how her digit in his mouth glided unperturbed over his tongue before she slowly pulled it enough back to touch his lips. Cecilia's fingertip drew softly circles on them; moistening the skin with his saliva. Aah... She was unarguable shameless – in a manner no other mortal had ever touched him before... He didn't know how to handle this...  
“You don't believe me..” the maiden abruptly noticed and sighed demotivated.  
When she wanted to withdraw from him, he impulsively gripped her right hand and snapped that index-finger lightly. Holding her digit with his lips and tongue in check. Midgardsormr hadn't planned this at all – thus he blushed immediately – but still he wasn't considering to let go of her. There was something about this ridiculous situation... which told him to not give in to the sudden, inexplicable desperation deep down in his heart.  
Cecilia smiled gently. Freed hand and digit from his grip as if he was a mere child compared to her. Not in order to let go of him, though... She cupped her palms around his ears; caressing the temples affectionately. There was an intimacy in her gesture that was paralyzing him. The electricity became worse when she leaned her mouth to his right ear.  
“Let me tell you something I haven't shared with anybody else in Eorzea...”  
Her lips on his skin tickled; her warm breath caused goosebumps on his back. He shivered...  
“See, Midgard... I wasn't born on this planet.”  
His lids ripped themselves widely open.

She retired minimal from him.  
Granting the astonished dragon-father a peaceful, loving smile.  
She must find his speechlessness amusing... The way how his eyes stared overwhelmed at her was clearly enjoyable for the Raen... Probably, this situation was just fair punishment for all the times when his awful humor took advantage of the maiden's youth...  
But how should he have been prepared for this unexpected novelty, anyways?  
Erik had quickly revealed to him, that he wasn't a native inhabitant of this world...  
Due to that connection to another, lost version of Midgardsormr, the gruff Hyur knew him enough for trusting him. Hence, he was straightforward communicating with both doll and 'Midge'.  
The maiden, on the other hand... She had never dropped any hints of being a foreigner to this place. If Cecilia hadn't revealed this secret to him, the old dragon would never have doubted her origin. Her blind faith, maybe, was something to question, but this wasn't relevant right now...  
Mentioned Raen caressed his cheeks with gentle fingertips.  
“I owe you an explanation, don't I.” she stated softly while her right hand wandered to his chin. Midgardsormr drew deeply breath through open lips; slightly trembling undesired before he replied: “If you're willing to share your history with me... Yes.”  
Chuckling, she nodded: “Okay... Well, I am of course an Au Ra. You surely figured that much out by yourself. But... This world isn't a place I should call my legitimate home. I'm a stranger.”  
He nodded; so far able to follow her explanation.  
“My ancestors were many generations before mine inhabiting a continent far away from Eorzea. Perhaps you have heard of Othard... Anyways, my family wasn't eager to fight for territory when other clans were appearing in their area. Making compromises didn't work, so my ancestors left before it could escalate. Probably... we all are a bunch of social dreamers... Our wish for peace doesn't give us any advantages... Though Lady Luck was with my family. Hazard let them stumble over a connection to another world. And this one became their new home – my home.”  
The maiden paused when 'Midge's' rod was suddenly moving.  
“Hah, looks like you're lucky as well. Great thing.” she commented amused. Shaking his head while he pulled the fish out of the water, the Methuselah replied: “This has nothing to do with luck. I am... just no longer frightening the animals.” “You mean you're no longer mad?” the Raen questioned with raised brows. Putting his tool as well as the mackerel away, 'Midge' reflected for a moment on his answer. He couldn't easily say 'Yes.'; that would be a lie... However... “I'm still a little bit... jealous deep down, but... You give me a very good reason to let go of this ugly sentiment.”  
Cecilia hummed lowly and leaned herself against his right shoulder.  
Gazing unsettled at her, the calm expression of her face including closed lids was irritating. Nevertheless, he began to relax when he noticed how familiar the contact felt. Come to think of something natural... She might have overwhelmed the dragon to reveal such a specific information like her origin to him, yet it was still positive astonishment.  
“I wanted to see it with my own eyes...” ,the girl suddenly mumbled, “The most beautiful continent on Hydaelyn which my ancestors saw on their journey before they reached our new home-world... Although it wasn't for a long while, they lived in Eorzea... Somewhere close to the Black Shroud... Because of their history, I wasn't able to resist a longer travel to this world. A world I could dedicate my heart to, if my own home wouldn't mean a lot to me.”  
Cautiously, Midgardsormr asked her: “Have your ancestors... been accepted on this other planet? Are you... allowed to live there as a free existence?” She gaped at him with half-opened eyes; obviously not amused by his hidden assumptions. “None of us was ever a slave.” ,Cecilia grumbled and withdrew from him, “We resemble a native tribe of my home-world. Just like us, the Gria bear strong resemblance to dragons. Their tails are just shorter than ours and their horns are just horns. They listen via slightly pointed ears. Also, they have no scales but draconic wings. But anyways, our races are like two sides of the same coin. We stick naturally together.”  
Immense relief spread despite the ridiculousness through his system.  
He was glad the other mortals of that world weren't trying to conquer and enslave Cecilia's kind... Hearing about Augustine's suffering as a child in Ishgard had been enough for him to confirm humane cruelty against one another, although he knew this was still nothing compared to what they had done to his own children and descendants... For men, it was just right to fight everything that wasn't fitting into their beliefs and principles – even if that meant to harm other mortals.  
Looking at the ocean, the Methuselah impulsively considered something.  
He was just not decided yet, whether or not this idea would be a good thing to do...  
The dragon-father was after all not used to returning a personal favor...  
His morales; his instincts told him, that – in his case – keeping private knowledge a secret would be the better choice to make. There weren't any benefits one could draw from learning of his origin, but humans were always creative when it was for turning something into an advantage. Maybe even his favorite could use a bagatelle in order to harm others...  
Glancing at Cecilia, she was just like him gazing at the waves. The whole atmosphere around her was earnest – with a pinch of sadness. Well, of course she was crestfallen...  
Without hesitating, she told him forthright something personal only for regaining his trust; hurt by something as idiotic as jealousy. And what was he in return doing? All the dragon had been thinking of was caring for possible slavery instead of showing interest into the details of her family's history. One could gallantly assume it was concern at the Raen's well-being which made him ask these silly questions, but the truth was that he distrusted mortals like always when there were possible threats. The maiden saw this – and he failed in distracting her from these reservations.  
Gulping, Midgardsormr stared down at his hands. It couldn't been helped otherwise...  
Nervously, he placed his right hand onto her left shoulder. The disguised antiquity felt immediately her unfriendly gaze on his face, yet he raised his head in order to look into her eyes. Although she was upset, this unforgettable beauty her mien possessed caught his attention so much that all fear and skepticism let go of him. And with her impressive openness from before, his heart denied all draconic narrow-mindedness; ready to take his mind over.  
With softly glowing eyes, he shrived awestruck: “We... have more in common than I realized... Forgive me my manners... Cecilia, I am... from another star. Another world; just like you.”

The maiden raised her brows. Studied him confused.  
“Have I heard wrongly...? You aren't native to the planet Hydaelyn? But I thought--- Scholars say, that you came to life for protecting the world's most important source – water. They say you are born to act as the Twelve's servant. And with you being bound to protect the planet's heart which exists underneath the Silvertear Lake, it makes absolutely sense that you must belong to this world. I can't imagine why the Mothercrystal should choose a stranger as some kind of bodyguard.”  
He smiled tenderly and shook his head: “I am no native resident. None of your gods created me. Long ago, I came from a far away world. Searching for shelter, as I have already told you in Limsa. In fact, I had not planned to stay forever in a foreign world when I left the star on which I was born. But soon I learned to call my new sanctuary home as my children grew up in this once irenic world. For me, the whole planet – Eorzea at the most – became the realm in which I want to exist as long as I will be able to.”  
Cecilia's mood changed... Depression lay in her mien.  
As if she had remembered something. Something... unpleasant.  
Midgardsormr silently wondered, which spoken word might be the trigger for one of these memories he clearly knew nothing about. Memories – reason for him to get to know her better, since they made her the person she was today. Though... Under different circumstances, she also could have seen a vision. Maybe the moment of his arrival on Hydaelyn. Or the long, painful travel to this world... But with her Echo being sealed, Cecilia wasn't able to get a glimpse at anything.  
Actually, the dragon-father started to regret that selfish action...  
Began to condemn his blind ambition to test her value...  
He could have reflected a lot on this matter – probably even too much, whereby her abrupt question was welcome to him: “And you serve Hydaelyn because she gave you the chance to live here with your children, correct? It wasn't only for shelter, that you became a guardian of the planet's heart, but for a completely new world to occupy, right?”  
Fondness spread over 'Midge's' mien. The astonishment in her voice appealed to him in both cases; amusement as well as relaxation. Affected by the possible vanishing of her depressed mood, Midgardsormr replied gently smiling: “Yes. I dedicated my spirit--- my soul to Her grace because of this unbelievable gift... She blessed me with light and welcomed my yet unborn brood as creatures of her own world. In Hydaelyn's eyes, there was no difference between us and all these races naturally inhabiting the planet. Nevertheless, we dragons as a whole do only exist on this star because of the Mothercrystal's generosity. I could never forget how much I owe her, thus all purpose of my existence lays in serving Her grace.”  
The Raen bestowed an angry gaze on him before she looked away with a gloomy mien. Simultaneously confused and worried, the antiquity studied her with flickering eyes. He hesitantly touched her left hand when he murmured: “Have I... uttered anything you find harmful?” A weak, evil grin slipped over the corners of her petal-lips. Both crystal and jewel searched for his gaze; silent reproach within their expression.  
“You adore Hydaelyn not on a professional level. It's personal.”  
These muted words reached his ears similar to an insult.  
His hand glided slowly from hers, because Midgardsormr couldn't believe what the maiden seemed to be expecting. With furrowed brows, he shook the head; eyes loosing their mildness. Every tune his voice made following carried slight indignation: “That is not right. Even though I am grateful to the Mothercrystal in a way I can hardly describe, it is still not like this. I see in Hydaelyn not more or less than the benefactor who gave my children a place to call home. And the one who generously ended the painful search of a restless dragon.”  
The Au Ra widened her lids for a second; just in order to narrow them when she clearly began to pity him. Of course the Methuselah had wished to distract Cecilia from whatever memory was hunting her, but on the other hand he didn't have aimed for any sentimental reaction. She shouldn't feel responsible for something so far away from the current day, that not even his children were able to remember it due to their existences as eggs back then.  
This compassionate gaze of hers was right now too much for him, so he turned away.  
With his eyes resting on the horizon, Midgardsormr knew it wasn't only for the way Cecilia expressed concern while she imagined his rough journey, that he could not endure her attention. Wasn't only for the possibility of the maiden feeling jealousy towards the Mothercrystal, that he avoided her gaze plus felt the need to hide his face...  
There was another being who would cause probably envy in her heart if she knew about it... Although so much time had passed, there was still gooseflesh to obtain – not only in his dreams – when Midgardsormr reflected just vaguely on that heavenly existence. The savior who brought him to this planet... How was that proud creature doing today...? This bright one with pale eyes...  
Practically eternal, as the two of them were, it was definitely possible they both were not yet dead... So, to have a second meeting with him would mean a lot to Midgardsormr – even though he was right now fully awake and with Cecilia by his side not as much attracted to this heavenly dragon as he had been millennia ago...  
She suddenly tapped against his arm with audible concern in that sweet voice: “Midgard?”  
Bracing his swirl of emotions, 'Midge' looked again at her. He could sense all anger as well as pity had subsided, thus the dragon didn't want to annoy her once more for making these feelings return. While he scrutinized the Raen, however, it was remarkable how much her bare willpower was able to push negative emotions aside. And how quickly she got rid of sentimentality just because he had expressed discomfort towards her compassion...  
“How were you... before you lived here, on this planet? How was your personality?” the maiden asked with big, curious eyes – clearly determined to learn more about his past. Unfortunately, Cecilia's amusing eagerness was nevertheless causing mental overload...  
Midgardsormr gave her a nervous smile and licked his lips, hesitating. When he spoke, his words sounded as unsettled as he felt like: “Wild...? Probably animalistic...? Perhaps even raging and wrathful...? I am not sure, what you want to hear... But I fear I was exactly all these things...”  
He tried to smile more self-confident for her, but the Raen already began to narrow the lids with these long, black lashes in sorrow. Her voice sounded after a long sigh unnaturally monotonous – without energy and entirely resigned: “You gave these traits up?” It wasn't primary a question. Almost rather a statement without hope of negation.  
“Well, my life was in some way over... My responsibilities lay in Hydaelyn's hands. Apart from being a father, all purpose of my existence was chained to protecting this planet. And as a stranger, it was my duty to become much more humble and less demanding... The formerly wild dragon died on the day he became an inhabitant of this world.” the Methuselah explained meekly.  
He jerked when she suddenly cupped the hands firmly around his face – staring at Midgardsormr with a heartbreaking expression. She even came closer to him than before; leaning the upper part of her body against his chest. 'Midge' was over-strained by her behavior; at the most by sudden tears which emerged from the crystal.  
Cecilia ultimately caught him off guard as she whispered: “I am sorry, Midgard... I hadn't planned to trample onto your feelings.”  
Shivering, the dragon-father shook his head; unable to grasp why she felt so in charge of this matter. He knew she must have possessed as a mortal of twenty years already some life-experience, but he failed more and more to even imagine why she acted the way she did. Her motives; her sorrows... Uncountable memories... All unknown to him.  
Midgardsormr fell inwardly apart when she hugged him tightly.  
His face was forcefully pressed against her neck with these petite arms. Soft, tense hands gripped meanwhile into his hair as well as shoulders; stimulating all fibers she touched like this.  
Oh dear Mothercrystal... What was this girl even doing to him...? And that idiosyncratic vessel... Why was it influencing him so much...? Why did that mortal shell alter ALL intentions he had towards the maiden...? If everything manipulating him didn't stop soon it's diabolical work... He... He would lose his mind... He wouldn't be able to control anymore these ugly, selfish feelings crawling underneath his draconic instincts...  
The desire would entirely consume him...  
Huffing desperately with reddish cheeks, he pressed the yearning forceful into oblivion.  
Midgardsormr pulled Cecilia slowly from his head; gently in every touch. “I'm not missing this part of mine. Not... a lot, at least.” the dragon told her with an embarrassed smile while his skin must be way too discolored for being unsuspicious. She tilted her head to the left shoulder; studying him, which made 'Midge' chuckle affectionate because of the worry in her eyes.  
Now, it was him who cupped the hands around the others face – endearingly and with tender fingers seeking for her flesh plus scales. Cecilia blushed slightly, yet there was still this concern in her gaze that he couldn't ignore.  
Caressing her face's right half, Midgardsormr promised: “It's okay to be no longer the wild creature I was once in the past. If my instincts were in charge as they had been back then, the two of us couldn't be here like this. I would see you as a meal – if not even just a snack – instead of a being worth of my trust and sympathy. I wouldn't... … ...feel connected to you.”  
Her eyes reflected for a moment the sun's light as if they were shining on their own. The view was more beautiful than anything else he had witnessed so far when it came to the Au Ra... Meanwhile, Cecilia's right hand wandered up to his left; holding it firmly yet lovingly. After a few seconds in this position, she turned her head minimal – placing a long kiss into his palm.  
Inhaling the gesture deeply with closed lids, Midgardsormr allowed the moment to leisurely pass by before he suggested to continue fishing in order to return to normality.

Well-known, sharp air cut into his face. White flakes fell soundless onto his head.  
Ah yes, 'Midge' couldn't pretend to have missed Coerthas' atmosphere in any aspect...  
Nevertheless, a smile spread over his mien as he watched next to him the maiden with her mount. Edgar appeared proud to carry his master back to the Holy City – and Cecilia was not less pleased to have completely recovered. After a short airship-ride from Limsa to Gridania and one last check of her health by an Elezen-Conjurer, the girl must feel very delighted to live again as the adventurer she used to be.  
When they reached the huge gate – dismounted both white bird plus Markab – the disguised dragon could see pure joy as well as satisfaction in her eyes to finally behold Ishgard's stonewalls again. Watching her mien like this had an enchanting effect on him... No heart could be cold enough to ignore such innocence.  
With that, he let the maiden walk ahead; pleased by simply attending her return. There was nothing about this moment which Midgardsormr would be able to regret in any way. Not even while... Nidhogg's threat remained in the back of his head, no. The tranquility which the Primogenitor felt couldn't be disturbed. It might be naive, but... For today, 'Midge' would only focus on her happiness. As one of the last occasions to celebrate their peaceful companionship wholeheartedly.  
Cecilia went the long route to the guesthouse.  
She wasn't in a hurry, obviously. Although... Her gaze turned a few times around to make sure that the Methuselah was still there. Mentioned dragon in a Hyur-vessel found her worry amusing, thus he barely kept an awful grin down. Typically unbelievable or rather odd, this very situation...  
Why the Raen cared so much for his presence, the antique being did truly not know. Parasitic like he had been in his former vessel – unable to take care of stomach as well as temperature on his own – she should be glad to have no longer any reason for feeling responsible for his condition. However, it rather appeared like the Au Ra would never stop doing so...  
Something caught 'Midge's' attention when they were close to their destination. Someone...  
A familiar dark armor stood in front of the old fountain; with the backside turned to their direction. Cecilia saw it as well, hence her speed accelerated a little bit. The pleased smile on her lips mixed with astonishment reminded him of the day they had entered Ishgard together for the first time... 'Midge' felt like having a déjàvu in this very moment... After all, the initial companion of hers they had back then met in this Holy City was now once more the first person to be seen. Albeit this time, it was not the Elezen who surprised his comrade with a sudden greeting.  
“Hey there.” the maiden called friendly – causing the Azure Knight to jerk almost unnoticeable before he turned nonchalantly around. “Cec?” ,Estinien seemed still taken off guard by her presence as his voice wasn't completely steady, “How come I didn't hear you would return? Was your brother hiding that knowledge from me...?” Cecilia chuckled with closed lids before she replied: “Hehe, no, I haven't told anybody about my plan. It was meant to be a surprise.”  
While the Raen approached her friend, the 'Hyur' stayed for a moment where he was.  
Watching the Elezen's mien as much as that helmet allowed, Midgardsormr concluded this arrogant, mocking smile hid something else, thus he came also closer. The Dragoon beheld both returners with attentive eyes – in a way similar to an animal which watched its predator from save distance. There was worry the dragon-father could see underneath the metal, albeit most of it was directed towards the maiden. As if... slowly emerging danger loomed over her head. Something that Estinien feared and wanted to keep away from her... These eyes colored in both steel and sapphire couldn't fool the Methuselah at this point.  
“I hope you weren't causing some extra trouble for this junior-hero here. After all, your lover-boy had already enough nuisances to endure in the last weeks.” the Azure Knight stated down-to-earth. The Au Ra chuckled amused – earning a loud clicking of Estinien's tongue. Not, that this sign of disapproval could darken her happiness at all.  
Smiling gently like the Raen, 'Midge' ignored that spiteful nickname in favor of uttering calmly: “She was a well-behaved patient. There's no need to worry about me.” “If you say so. But people on cloud nine do usually not realize any misdeeds, on the other hand.” the Elezen muttered, whereby Cecilia knocked offended against his chest-armor with a pouting expression.  
Actually, Midgardsormr knew Estinien tried to brighten their mood. The dragon did just not know, why her ally needed a lighter atmosphere. But according to the expression his helmet couldn't hide completely, the Dragoon was already preparing himself for delivering bad news.  
Inhaling quickly, Estinien said: “Cec, the two of you are lucky to come not later back. Your brother and the others were planning to leave Ishgard today. Even that Scion-child will accompany them.” Oha, this sounded indeed not good. And the ill feeling in Midgardsormr's stomach was foretelling something horrible... “What did happen?” the maiden asked with raised brows; like the old dragon on high alert.  
“Well, looks like Nidhogg himself will strike soon. He's loosing patience... Nobody told you, hm? He attacked a few knights in Western Coerthas. They probably won't survive.”  
Cecilia frowned while 'Midge' closed his lids – aware the peaceful moments were coming to an end. His son had decided to start the real war; a kind of terror the maiden would now have to witness as no coma nor physical weakness were holding her back anymore.  
Sighing muted, Estinien added: “Anyways... Erik and the boy seek still for diplomatic solutions, which is why they tried to get Aymeric's approval for a journey to the Churning Mists. Last straw, so to speak... Alphinaud wants to talk with Nidhogg's brother – hoping Hraesvelgr could help out. Though I doubt there will be any success, I decided to accompany your friends. At least with me being present, Aymeric allowed this suicidal undertaking of the Warriors plus the child.”  
What an idea... Midgardsormr's awful humor wanted to burst out into dry laughing.  
Such hopeless action wouldn't convince his depressive son of aiding humankind once more. Hraesvelgr was sick of even seeing mortal faces since Ratatoskr’s horrible death, so how could he be in any way a good choice for one last social reasoning... As consumed as Nidhogg was by wrath, as much was his brother lost to despair...  
Cecilia shook slightly her head. This motion lasted for a few seconds... Something about the plan wasn't to her liking, although this naivety should normally be appealing to the Au Ra.  
“It's not directly suicidal, but... How do they even plan reach that area? As much as I know about it, the dragons of the Dravanian Forelands don't let humans climb up that huge mountain, Sohm Al.” Estinien gave a sound similar to hissing before he replied unwillingly: “Alphinaud suggested to ask Lady Iceheart for support.”  
In earnest? The plan involved a heretic? Above all the one who was the biggest thorn in the flesh of all Inquisitors? Now it was truly a hilarious project, though not funny thanks to its seriousness.  
The maiden folded her arms: “I'm not sure Ysayle could trust anybody of you guys enough to even consider this plan. All of you guys have blood of her protégés on the hands.” She snorted lowly; frustration all over her face. But as she fell without warning silent, Estinien tapped eventually against her right shoulder. “You think it could work when you're with us, huh?” the Azure Knight followed her train of thoughts.  
This was an option, indeed. Cecilia's oddness COULD be a key for gaining Ysayle's trust...  
“Probably, yes. But with nobody informing me about this journey, I guess Erik does not want me to come with you.” Scratching the nape of his neck, the Elezen noticed: “He knows how you feel about killing dragons. And we can't ignore the possibility to fight several of them in order to even reach Hraesvelgr's domain. Actually, I'm more against the idea of taking you with us than he is... But even I wouldn't want to leave you behind. So... If you like to join us, I'll bring you to the place where the others are right now.”  
Estinien offered an open right hand to her – startling Cecilia as well as 'Midge' with this gesture.  
It would resemble Haurchefant's gallant behavior, but surely not the stoic nature of this elf here... Yet, said armored hand reached patiently out for the Raen. Accompanied by a calm expression underneath the helmet. Hah... Who would have thought the Azure Knight was able to allow himself willingly a soft spot; in the midst of Ishgard, above all. If this sentiment didn't count as weakness for the Eye to feet on, it was either a flat feeling without any importance or a strong emotion which the dark wyrm's will simply couldn't touch.  
The maiden hesitated. Gave a side-glance at the 'Hyur', who knew she didn't want him to see any of these possible combats. But he wasn't fragile; he knew that his grandchildren could die every day – if their ancestor watched it or not. Therefore, Midgardsormr assured Cecilia with a silent nodding, that he was determined to accompany her path no matter where it would go to.  
Looking back at her companion, the Au Ra seemed to stop breathing for a moment. Then, she put her hand onto Estinien's palm; immediately not liking the contact. Her agonized expression was entirely visible; it became worse as the knight softly framed the back of her hand with his fingers. But it wasn't only aversion which caused her mien to appear so gloomy. Mainly, it hurt her to always suppress their friendship with pure force – Midgardsormr could feel this.  
And according to Estinien's tiny, sad smile, both mortals suffered deeply under Cecilia's decision.

The other Warriors of Light and Alphinaud were in the Astrology-guild.  
Staying there seemed predictable, although 'Midge' doubted the majority of magicians was happy about the visit. With so many people waltzing into their building without proper reason for doing it, no one could really blame the members for finding it unacceptable. Albeit Annika, Carlos and the teenager were of course capable of casting spells, they had never shown interest into Astrology, whereby even their presence must be annoying for the native mages.  
Midgardsormr could see the disdain in the eyes of two older Astrologians who stood right before building's entry. They appeared considerably indignant once Estinien reached their field of vision; the silent complaint in their gazes was as loud as if they had yelled at him.  
However, the mages mildened their expressions when they saw 'Midge'. His lack of magical talent had become common knowledge, but the same counted also for his curiosity considering their area of expertise. With that, he was some kind of favorite patient – and enjoyed therefore to be treated like a newcomer-Astrologian instead of miming an annoying stranger.  
Yet, the true reason to lose their anger, naturally, wasn't him.  
In the very moment they noticed Cecilia right behind the new 'Dragoon', both Elezen were beaming like children. Although a snobbish behavior was usually beclouding this very fact, every single man and woman of the guild had nevertheless grown attached to Augustine's fellow Raen. Thus, to see mentioned girl now save and sound – after so many days had passed – was without difficulty slapping the arrogance from their faces plus minds.  
Passing these two, Midgardsormr couldn't think bad of them.  
He should condemn their mental weakness, but who was 'Midge' anyways to deserve such right while he himself could not refuse the magnetism the maiden had on him...  
Cecilia's allies stood in a private corner of the guild.  
Just as expected, they were right about to say goodbye to Augustine. Though not only to her... Haurchefant and Tataru were also present – seemingly in order to save time for the undertaking. Perhaps Nidhogg's recent actions had more impact on the normally unperturbed adventurers plus the young scholar than Midgardsormr could have imagined...  
“You're really a 'formidable' brother for keeping our journey a secret, Erik. Who again was so stupid to make you the leader of this little brigade here? I'd honestly like to give that guy my own two Gil, if you don't mind.” the Azure Knight said loudly while he was the first one to approach the group.  
Grumbling, the Marauder payed attention to his big-mouthed friend: “Estinien, when you claim to NOT like farewells, make next time sure to stick to your words! You impolite knight are---”  
In this very moment, Erik's eyes found right behind mentioned Elezen the Raen who gazed now at her personal brother with raised brows. While all words failed the Midlander – and everybody else noticed Cecilia – the Dragoon questioned: “What about me impolite knight? Don't like it that I ruin your party for the sake of Cec?”  
Maybe the Dragoon had still some cynical words to spread, but Tammy and Bertram cut in on them: “Ceci! You're healthy again! Thank goodness!” Both Miqo'te and Roegadyn quasi jumped at her; hugging the Raen tightly as if there was no tomorrow. “Well, so much for that...” Estinien mumbled; not truly minding the interruption as he watched them with a small grin on his thin lips.  
Once the motherly and fatherly Warriors were done, her personal brother was next to pull Cecilia into his arms; followed by the good Fortemps-knight plus her fellow Au Ra. Other than them, Carlos saved face when he simply nodded in approval, although 'Midge' could tell Estinien's cousin would have enjoyed an embrace. And both Annika as well as Tataru simply didn't dare to throw their tiny bodies at Cecilia since a tearful teenager found now the courage to do so.  
“I wanted to surprise you, but it looks like the real astonishment was meant for me.” ,the archmage stated minimal embarrassed after Alphinaud was done with almost choking her, “I'm not directly mad about your decision to not inform me about your plan, but... You could at least have told me, that Nidhogg himself attacks now people so close to Ishgard.”  
Her words made everybody but Estinien look guiltily at Cecilia.  
Erik possessed the strongest sorrow, which was why he was still incapable of talking.  
“No, no, we didn't want to exclude you! Please believe me.” ,the young scholar hastily explained, “It's just... We would have put pressure onto your shoulders if you knew about Nidhogg's activities. With your strong sense of justice, it was clear to us that you would leave La Noscea immediately – whether or not you had recovered in this moment. Thus, we kept our mouths shut...”  
Annika agreed when Alphinaud lost his courage under the Raen's unsettled gaze: “He's right. For us, the most important thing was your health. Upsetting you went against our will, but it was necessary as we couldn't count on such fast recovery. But since that did actually happen, we surely will need your help now to convince Lady Iceheart of our good intentions. Without you, our chances aren't very high.”  
The maiden had still not entirely overcome the slight betrayal.  
But surprisingly, Carlos added to the Lalafell's statement: “What she means is, that you're probably the only reason for Iceheart to support us. Of course Midge has also never slayed a dragon so far, but he's not famous for being a peaceful dreamer like you are. Many people of Ishgard hate you for the decision to never kill their enemies – and with that, you appear far more sympathetic in the eyes of all heretics than the rest of us. We would be fools for even trying without your presence.”  
Strange... The Blackmage's declaration resembled Estinien's manner of speech.  
To make it more clear, their relation by blood was more than noticeable.  
However, Carlos' voice sounded much more velvety. And his sentences carried a positive vibe which his cousin never managed to reach. In other words...  
This Elezen had instantly brightened Cecilia's mood.  
With that, her other friends were now more than eager to make sure, that she wouldn't feel again like an unwanted member of the small union: “With you, dear sister, I wouldn't even dare to dream of a future. So you can believe me, that I would never want to venture to the dragons without you by my side.” “Yeah, Erik is right. Together, we'll find a peaceful possibility to end this war!” ,Tammy interrupted optimistically, “There's no way in hell we will fail our mission!” “Haha, indeed, we as a team are unstoppable. Let's hammer some sense of harmony into these prehistoric creatures, I say. It's now or never!” Bertram shared the Miqo'te's enthusiasm.  
What a bunch of naive idiots they were...  
A group that Midgardsormr had allowed to become dear to him without even noticing.  
Unfortunately, he wasn't allowed to relish in their silly conversation. Something distracted him from the heartwarming reunion – a spark of energy coming from the Eye. The increasing dark glow – invisible for normal humans – was stinging and unpleasant; a nuisance for its bearer.  
Although mentioned man's reaction was only for a short moment present, Estinien clenched his jaw nevertheless tightly. Thus, it was clear to the father of dragon-kind, that his son was once more torturing the Azure Knight with fullest pleasure.  
But... Obviously not only him, as suddenly a derisive voice mumbled into the Methuselah's mind: 'Are they not amusing...? With this stubborn Dragoon around them, all their plans lay open to me like an ordinary book without a lock. I wonder why they willingly take the risk or rather demise to have my cynical pawn around.'  
Midgardsormr glared at the Eye.  
He could feel its gaze even while it was hidden in Estinien's possession... The malicious expression that thing was able to make without lids would always provoke him. Had his son decided to speak not a single word with the dragon-father, that gaze alone should suffice to transmit his fleer.  
Annoyed by Nidhogg's impertinence to disturb this moment, the Primogenitor gave a deep growl. 'Thou hast no right to watch their reunion. No right to judge their decisions. Their path is their own to choose. Not thy responsibility to take. Leave them alone. NOW.' he ordered highly angered.  
A threat loomed in the Methuselah's voice that not even the self-confident dark wyrm could ignore. A threat powerful enough to forcefully end the mental connection if the pressure would have been a bit stronger.  
It felt like Nidhogg unwillingly bowed to him; hissing with disapproval. Then, the crestfallen son snarled quietly: 'I will... But thou art also not meant to be here. Do not forget this.'  
If Midgardsormr had physically been able to, he would have shattered the next-best wall.

Unaware of Nidhogg's sardonic words, the jolly group left the Astrology-guild.  
It was time to go, obviously, as Haurchefant and Tataru refrained slightly from the visionaries. Gazes turned to the ground, the atmosphere of departure made both knight and secretary doleful – something 'Midge' could just too well sympathize with. He himself... gradually started to mourn those small freedom he had found within the life of an ordinary adventurer.  
Yet, Augustine demonstrated one last cheekiness to brighten the mood. A question no one would have expected to happen: “Hey Ceci, how serious have you two lovebirds been so far?”  
The maiden stared at her friend with widened eyes; Midgardsormr did the very same. However, Augustine's curiosity dumbfounded the other mortals as well – everybody blushed to hear such straightforwardness. Alphinaud, first of all, turned a deep red. More than Tataru, Annika and Tammy together, though the women should be in general more sensitive to such topics than males. One could even have imagined steam coming from his head thanks to the intense color.  
Huh... The teenage-scholar truly was an innocent child when it was for these things... Amusing. Very amusing. Especially, since he was Cecilia's favorite ally. Midgardsormr's spiteful humor plus awful selfishness rejoiced to see how inadequate the boy was, albeit the dragon-father still considered him as an acceptable companion.  
Anyways, mentioned Raen finally answered to Augustine's question: “We're taking things slow. There are still many activities left to do for us. Many first times. But... we spend every minute with each other. And cuddle a lot. Even Merlwyb commended us on our romantic relationship.”  
The mortals were immediately fond of the maiden's report.  
Midgardsormr, on the other hand, was close to dying.  
He couldn't believe it... Cecilia continued Erik's lie instead of ending it... She knew how 'Midge' felt about falsehoods. Knew he wanted to get rid of this building of lies...! And she had even claimed to detest fabrications herself! It should be her first priority to set things right... Nevertheless, she told her friends something else! Spoke straightforward of these things which had already encouraged Limsa's inhabitants to misinterpret their connection. And gave her sentimental comrades hope where no hope existed at all.  
But... B-But...! With all the aversion in the vessel's chest... there was a tiny part which was different. A part of his heart that became big and proud once it heard her explanation. A piece which... selfishly yearned for her affection.  
While her other friends seemed dazzled by the insight – even the Dragoon with that sharp tongue stayed silent with an almost dreamily expression – Augustine boomed happily: “Very good to hear! I'm so glad everything is fine between you two! Hehe, then there's no need to worry when you travel to the Churning Mists. BUT...! When you're not yet deep into the real fun of a young couple... I'll play for once a thief like Haurchy did before! That would just be fair.”  
“Seriously? That's stupid. It wasn't willful---” the archmage was about to say with an upset mien – seeking for justifying Haurchefant's kiss back then when she had woken up – but her erratic friend didn't let her complain. Augustine quickly put the hands onto Cecilia's cheeks plus pressed the lips onto her petal-exemplars before any more words could leave her mouth.  
Everybody stared shocked at the stolen kiss. A kiss that lasted instead of being immediately broken. A kiss... obviously able to gain Cecilia's approval as she gave reluctantly in with closed lids.  
From the corners of his eyes, 'Midge' saw Alphinaud being about to faint with a cherry-red head. Saw Haurchefant's mien beclouding because of some kind of jealousy. These two things triggered Midgardsormr's malicious joy; were the only things which kept the Methuselah himself away from being drowned by a flood of sentiments.  
His maiden seemed to have forgotten everything else. She wasn't completely replying to the kiss, though. It was rather... as if she fantasized about something which the physical contact was only barely able to mimic. As if... her friend's affection was a means to an end for emotions hidden from the rest of the world...  
The dragon shuddered when Augustine withdrew; the sight of their outreached tongues unbearable. He couldn't name the impulse which twitched piercingly through his system, but it was even without an appellation almost driving him crazy...  
“No need to be jealous. Here you go, Midge!” the Astrologian trilled and hopped at the 'Hyur'.  
Everybody's jaws including Cecilia's dropped open.  
They watched when Augustine entangled his neck with her arms. Watched as she pressed her chest against his own. And watched when she kissed him directly on the lips. But... none of the humans could nearly be as confused, surprised or overwhelmed as the disguised father of dragon-kind himself was in this very instant.  
Ah... Even in the period of peace... no mortal had dared to do any of these things to him. None of these personal, affectionate gestures which Cecilia usually did... Yet, Augustine's undertaking now... was even more impudence than his humane favorite possessed... It was... maddening.  
He didn't want her to do this. Didn't want any mortal to touch him like this. Panic rushed through his veins as the Astrologian's lips moved on his own. If he hadn't been disguised right now, Midgardsormr would have bitten her; with fangs able to rip the flesh from Augustine's face.  
But as his torn-open eyes happened to glimpse at the appalled Raen...  
He remembered how much these two Au Ra resembled each other. Recalled that Augustine looked like a second Cecilia with just another tail-shape, more facial scales and extreme long hair plus eyes in antique-pink color. And once that thought overlapped his draconic instincts...  
The Methuselah was consumed by deep yearning.  
He didn't fight when the Astrologian gave him the same kiss she had shared before with his maiden. Eyes shut, he let her have his mouth; his tongue. Once Augustine touched all she was able to reach, his head lost noticeable blood as it wandered downwards. Making room for slight hallucinations. The dragon trembled inwardly when he imagined how it might be if Cecilia would do this to him... A muted groan was barely held back in order to not reveal his growing, forbidden desire.  
Desire solely meant for the maiden...  
While she let go of him, Augustine looked like she was upset by his missing reaction – as if he had insulted her. The following sulking words emphasized this impression: “Buuuh, am I so bad compared to Ceci? You weren't answering at all.”  
Actually, this wasn't true... He was just not responding to the wrong Au Ra.  
His vessel felt shaky as the mortals were busy with half-heartedly rebuking the cheeky Astrologian. While Cecilia slightly slapped the back of Augustine's head, Midgardsormr was barely able to move his stilts which were out of control. He just marginally noticed Annika's big speech about morales, since his ears were distracted by loudest pulse. And when Haurchefant put the protesting Au Ra over his shoulder plus scolded her chuckling as if she had been a misbehaving child, the dragon couldn't enjoy the punishment because of an ill sentiment...  
He couldn't think straight because electricity ran through his stomach plus lap. This prickling – together with his heartbeat – became worse as the maiden suddenly stood by his side; touching his left arm. She looked at him with worry in the odd-colored eyes. A hint of guilt within them, even... Every anger she originally bore towards Augustine was forgotten. Her friends were still focused on the naughty magician, but for Cecilia counted now only 'Midge' – and this over-strained him. Intensified the longing...  
For a moment, he was close to beg for mercy. To ask if she would still his desire. Or... was tempted to grip her face. To claim these beautiful lips for himself... But even with a mortal vessel, he was nevertheless a dragon who had seen what happened when a human and one of his kind were close – and he didn't possess the strength to even try such hopeless link himself.  
With desperation; face burning under his chaotic feelings, Midgardsormr stared at the young Raen. He pulled Cecilia's hand from his arm and – while his fingers pressed a little too much into her palm – whispered helpless: “Please... do not touch me now...”  
She beheld him as if he had broken her heart.

Three hours later.  
One of the rare afternoons when Western Coerthas saw sunny weather... Who would have thought, that this hazard would come in handy.  
Erik and Alphinaud had yesterday contacted a heretic – none of the extremists – with the intention to hold today a meeting; right in the midst of the icy wasteland. Despite initial doubts, the stranger appeared dutifully to the clock-time-adjustment they had arranged. Willing to talk about whatever the Warriors plus their companions wanted to discuss.  
The group described their plan roughly, which earned at first strong skepticism. But once the idea settled down in the Hyur's head, he agreed to call his boss in order to give them at least a chance. The man used smoke-signals – a combination only Lady Iceheart knew – and stayed with them until the Elezen appeared. After he bid farewell, Ysayle wanted to know why Ishgard's newest heroes were interested into conversing with her. She demonstrated obvious distrust; arms protective folded under the chest.  
For both Erik and Estinien, it wasn't easy to exculpate themselves alias their role in the undertaking. Ysayle didn't mind the sunshiny, calm Bertram, who – as a Paladin – did protect things plus people. She was also not too worried about Carlos as well as Tammy, since these two were rather famous for attacking people, wild animals and monsters. But the gruff Marauder and stoic Azure Dragoon were two persons she actually didn't want to trust.  
It was for Annika and Alphinaud – probably Cecilia at the most – that Lady Iceheart reflected earnestly on the matter. The three convinced her of their peaceful intention; that they wouldn't harm any dragon who was friends with Ysayle. No one, who belonged to Hraesvelgr's brood, should have a reason to fear them. Furthermore, the trio promised with severe, honest words, to fight only against those 'pangolins' related to Nidhogg – and that they would only do so if necessary.  
Once everyone else including 'Midge' – though that was from his point of view really not necessary – had sworn to obey these rules, Lady Iceheart finally agreed to supporting them.  
Uh... That feeling...  
Without any warning, Midgardsormr could sense it... Could sense, how one of Hydaelyn's crystals which his maiden carried regained its pure shine. This occurring meant nothing else but a wonder the father of dragon-kind didn't have expected to happen anymore...  
The mortals noticed nothing. Well, of course not... They weren't bound to Cecilia like he was. Above all, she didn't act like anything would be different. So, instead of marveling the miracle which happened right amongst them, the group ignorantly decided to travel as soon as possible to the Dravanian Forelands.  
Erik and Ysayle walked ahead; quickly followed by everybody else but 'Midge'.  
Staying behind was probably no good idea... But the dragon was too petrified by his fresh discovery as if he could move forward. His mind – soaked with several emotions – was overreacting. It circled around several thoughts: 'To slacken my grip around your light, even when it is just a little bit... Remarkable. Your adamant will grants you extraordinary strength. But will that be enough? … Probably you do not know, how meaningful this little accomplishment is... Wrath lay in my action. The selfish sentiment is the reason why all struggle against my seal seemed useless so far. Aah... Forgive me... If I would only know, how to properly apologize... How to pay for my mistake. I... shouldn't have doubted you. Should not have taken your gift away...'  
Cecilia turned suddenly around. Looked at him as if she had heard his thoughts. Her expression was a mixture of seriousness as well as sadness – the later was incomprehensible for him.  
She came to his left; hesitantly gripping the vessel's arm with both exemplars she had gotten.  
As a hint of desperation slipped over her face, Midgardsormr realized she was worried if he might still be unable to bear her touch. Lowering his lids, he listened when she said quietly: “The Echo wasn't a talent I possessed back then at home. Just like I told you... In my opinion, it's a useful thing to have visions and understand strange languages, but that's all. It used to be an odd extra of Eorzea; not more. … What I am truly concerned with... is your faith into me. If you think I do not deserve it anymore because of keeping up the lie.”  
A tender smile flitted over his lips.  
Was she really not reading his mind? It was always so unbelievable, how perfectly she could understand his troubles... Had she been one of his kind, it would appear much more natural when she grasped his thoughts easily. Au Ra seemed a lot like his species, but with their mortality as well as characteristics, he couldn't count on such general resemblance. She must really be special...  
He gently pulled her arms from his own in order to hold her hands.  
Then, the disguised dragon began walking. Cecilia gazed confused at him while she was forced to move as well – both crystal and jewel were silently telling him how much his behavior irritated her. After he had settled for only holding her left hand in order to follow the rest of the group without any difficulties, the Methuselah mumbled: “As I do not condemn you, I am still able to trust you. It's not my right to despise your action, furthermore. Even while the rest of me wants to get rid of Erik's lie... there's a part of me... that simply can't erase it.”  
Her over-strained gaze was quite amusing, yet he didn't allow himself more than a muted chuckle. After all, he must feel shame because of his own oddness... To be unable to wish entirely for the falsehood's end was a fact that – once he thought about it – should have an immense impact on him. It definitely left a strong impression on the maiden, after all. But all the Methuselah could do was feeling minimal nervousness deep down in his core. Not more. His draconic instincts lost terribly when they tried to tell him to be frightened by his inadequate reaction.  
The dragon shook his conscience off. Payed once more attention to the Raen.  
Cecilia's worried eyes tickled his playfulness, thus he squeezed her hand with a bold expression. Hah... When she saw so much through him... Might she know...? Know, that Midgardsormr – when he allowed himself this luxury – was completely absorbed by happiness because of the connection the two of them shared with each other? Her heavy concern at least would match this theory...  
And obviously... the ancient being wasn't only seeing things. Though once she opened her mouth, his pertness vanished. “Don't dare to focus on this temporary good mood. It's not the real deal...” ,Cecilia muttered gloomily, “Because of all these obstacles... Because staying with me forces you to do many things you originally couldn't undertake no matter what... You're becoming someone you didn't want to be. I'm unwillingly forcing my worldview upon you... Therefore, get this stupid bliss away from your visage. Better hate me for holding on to our fake-relationship.”  
A faint smile spread over his lips. Became wider as he listened to her anger.  
Oh, how much she expressed feelings like a true dragon... Too impolite towards the Primogenitor, but still just as his own race... He caressed the back of her hand when he replied: “My sentiment is very true. For the simple reason that... I know you just want to protect me. Like Erik did before. So... How could I hate you... How could I punish you for following your big heart... Cecilia, listen... As long as this travel lasts... I'll continue to endure the embarrassing fabrication. Doing that... shouldn't be all too problematic. Because...”  
Midgardsormr paused for a moment. Scrutinized the maiden attentively in order to see, if she wouldn't disdain him should he tell her about his chaotic sentiments... Her face was still beclouded by frustration. About the fault which belonged onto her shoulders; according to this sense of justice she owned... The maiden waited for him to continue, yet didn't consider forgiving herself...  
Well, it was probably indeed a good idea to distract her.  
That decision being made, he shrived with an affectionate smile: “There's a greedy part of mine... which selfishly wants to hide you from everything else in this world. Every other being but me. That single piece of my darkest desires... wants you to focus all your pure impulses onto me alone. It could... one day have the power to make me embrace whatever role you might wish me to have. Be it a servant... A slave... A brother... Or a friend... I fear I... would even accept to be your enemy... if that only justified to feel your purest emotions. And unrestricted touches... If it was you who would want to kill me... I would welcome it.”  
When she studied him with deep shock – quickly replaced by sorrow as well as agony – he smiled just in sad manner at her. Knowing, that she felt anxiety by the simple imagination to take his life... But that was what his heart told him openly...  
His life lay to her feet – his protective instincts loomed over her head. Midgardsormr was willing to pay for his selfish mistake with simply every fiber his existence was left with. He had imprisoned her light, yet it was him who was now chained to the other one. Cecilia had become his mistress – in a way Hydaelyn would never be for the Methuselah.  
He could no longer deny it.  
His loyalty belonged to the mortal maiden.  
Cecilia cleared her throat: “I'm not going to grant you any suicidal wishes... Just to make that clear. If you're sick of existing, you can take care of that by yourself. But... Although we had this topic already once... If I... could keep you as... MY dragon... no matter what happens... That would be all I demand of you. … Be my dragon. Forever.”  
A cascade of warmest prickling rushed through his spine. The blissful 'Yes.' he wanted to give her was held down by the naive, beautiful joy she made him experience. So instead of this, he leaned over to her head and placed a gentle kiss onto her left temple. The reddish hue which her cheeks took now let him sigh in satisfaction.  
While they caught up with her friends; walked hand in hand behind them, a motion of her very soul left him puzzled. The Raen's suddenly determined expression emphasized additionally, that he was interpreting the wave correctly... She treated all his feelings like a treasure worth to be defended in the Dragonsong War. All his worries towards his descendants... and every hope he began to carry since the day she visited him on the Agrius.  
Touched by this resolution, Midgardsormr squeezed Cecilia's hand tightly.  
“I adore you.” he whispered breathless. Making her blush deep red under his loving gaze.


	15. Chapter 15

# Chapter Fifteen

Nostalgia was a strange thing to experience... After all...  
In Hydaelyn's mortal vessel, he technically didn't have the right to be emotionally touched.  
But nevertheless, Midgardsormr felt a little bit like coming home when Ysayle led the group to Hraesvelgr's brood in the Dravanian Forelands. He just couldn't tie the sentiment to the majority of present descendants... Well, not that the Primogenitor would have expected anything else.  
Of course he wasn't familiar with the younger exemplars and their offspring. They had never seen the days of peace between their kind and humanity, thus his eyes were never beholding these grandchildren prior to today. Though... He felt vaguely bound to them. Even without a personal connection. Other than Nidhogg's offspring, these children existed because of sympathy and affection; not born as tools with the purpose to destroy another race. Probably their ignorance was slightly alarming, yet much better than the brute life their cousins had to endure.  
Also... The wonderment each dragon demonstrated about that sudden, humane 'invasion' in their territory was deeply amusing him. He would have teased his grandchildren a little bit, if his corpus just wouldn't be branded as an ordinary, non-draconic mortal. These youngsters wouldn't understand his friendly banter – coming from a foreign Hyur, it might be rather insulting. And the few older exemplars, who could perhaps discover his true identity even without knowing him personally... shouldn't be all too happy to be confronted with a traitor. So, 'Midge' kept his mouth shut in spite of the wish to reach out for them. Reach out for relatives completely unknown to him, but blessed with an innocence that took a boulder from his shoulders.  
However... One of these descendants he actually did recognize. A single one. Hraesvelgr's daughter, Vidofnir. The Methuselah didn't need Ysayle to introduce her, because he would always notice these ruby-red eyes and snow-white scales. Men might not think of this 'pangolin' to be something pretty, but for draconic measure she was a beautiful creature.  
His granddaughter wasn't too distrustful towards the group. Though she didn't gave them the same openness which Lady Iceheart enjoyed due to being a friend of Hraesvelgr's brood, she allowed them to roam the area freely. Yet, the white descendant wasn't willing to let Erik and the others travel to Sohm Al. If they wanted to obtain the same rights that Ysayle enjoyed, the foreigners must at first help the dragons with a specific problem.  
Alphinaud reacted skeptical about this kind of test, but once Vidofnir explained it, the teenager became highly enthusiastic. Not, that 'Midge' could share this confidence entirely... Nobody should underestimate the fight against a Primal; no matter how strong or skilled oneself or allies might be. However, the Primogenitor was sure, that the Warriors of Light were still the best choice to defend his grandchildren against that pseudo-god Ravana – summoned by a Beast-tribe called Gnath. Therefore, he was able to relate to the teenager's optimism, partly. Albeit there was something else what truly brightened his mood once they began to study their foes...  
Some of the bug-like enemies weren't any longer chained to the collectively mind, which was controlling the tribe under regular circumstances. Mentioned creatures had developed an own will; had become individuals. They used for themselves another appellation than the original description – going now by the word Vath – and tried to befriend foreign races. Thanks to their peaceful nature, summoning a Primal was for them a mistake, too, whereby they gladly shared all knowledge about the false deity Ravana. Hopeful, that new allies might be able to stop the terror their former fellows were causing, they even helped the group to sneak into the Gnath's lair.  
Midgardsormr wouldn't have expected to meet such helpful creatures right in the midst of Dravania. That was a welcome surprise for his ancient worldview. But on the other hand... He would also not have been able to foretell the following event which occurred within the battle.  
Ysayle tried to carry a part of the burden on her own.  
While Alphinaud and Estinien couldn't face the Primal, Lady Iceheart as a chosen child could accompany the Warriors. Even more than that – she turned herself once more into the Eikon Shiva in order to challenge the giant bug on her own. The result was unfortunately a harsh punishment. Even though the 'goddess' possessed lots of potential, her ice was easily melted by Ravana's fire. She got several, severe injuries. Maybe even broke a few small bones... Thus, Cecilia – once more as an Astrologian with this robe designed like a snowy owl – and Annika as a Whitemage had to take care of the wounds in order to prevent lethal aftereffects. Probably, the only thing worse than the defeat must be this new slap for Ysayle's pride...  
Midgardsormr couldn't really pity her.  
While he supported Erik, Bertram, Tammy and Carlos for beating their enemy, the disguised dragon was partly crestfallen about the woman's decision to summon once more this false image of Hraesvelgr's true love. If she respected Shiva's history as well as Hydaelyn's limits, the Elezen wouldn't dare to call upon the powers which were made of dust and dreams. But at least she had weakened Ravana noticeable, so that the adventurers could destroy the illusion faster than expected. And looking at her remorseful expression, at least Ysayle knew how wrong this ambitious action had been. Knew, that it consumed lots of aether to summon something as powerful as a deity.  
When the group returned to Vidofnir, Midgardsormr's granddaughter had already heard of the news, yet was astonished by the mortals' success. She thanked the Warriors and cheered her friend up – not being angry for Ysayle becoming an Eikon once more. If 'Midge' wouldn't be just a human in her eyes, he might have argued with the dragon about how wrong it was to spoil Lady Iceheart, but in the end it was better to avoid everything which might reveal his identity. The Primogenitor would only become a traitor in the eyes of his descendants, hence he swallowed all protest down.  
Not to mention... the disadvantage of taking a heretic's illusion away. With the little knowledge mentioned Elezen had about her personal goddess, an ordinary 'Hyur' should better avoid telling her the truth. Since she had probably never considered what was so clear to him, he might only endanger the support Lady Iceheart gave the troop at the moment. Thanks to that, he couldn't accuse her of becoming just another Primal and nothing more.  
Vidofnir declared to trust Ysayle's companions enough for letting them wander up Sohm Al. However, she warned them to prepare for obstacles because of Nidhogg's brood. These dragons would never accept peaceful debates, so if the group happened to stumble not only over some regular monsters, they must count on the worst. Furthermore, she suggested to refill every provisions plus potions, since it was impossible to tell, what might happen next once they reached the Churning Mists. Unimpressed by the danger, Erik and the others were nevertheless grateful for Vidofnir's care. With that, they decided to follow her advice just in case.

'Midge' felt a little bit... useless.  
Not in aspects of fighting beasts to train his skills, but rather in consideration of helping the mortals to prepare for the next step of their trip. He had not much knowledge of ingredients for medicine and couldn't tell which creatures delivered meat that wasn't troublesome for humane stomachs. Although he had technically spent so much time in a humane vessel now, there were still many different things he could learn from true adventurers.  
Cecilia tapped against his left shoulder.  
“What's occupying your head at the moment? Worry about being not the greatest help?” she asked; gently smiling at him while her hands took automatically care of some roots in her Alchemist-pot. Lowering his head, the Methuselah nodded with an embarrassed smirk. All the others – even Alphinaud – were busy with simply ANYTHING, while he could do nothing else but keeping the maiden company. Sitting next to her on the ground without any purpose. And other, than the three curious dragon-children to her left, this 'Midlander' here SHOULDN'T waste time with just staring at Cecilia's actions. Yet...  
When he glanced up, Midgardsormr saw something so touching that leaving the Raen alone would be a hard thing to accomplish...  
She was fond of these young ones. A feeling the children returned.  
Though the maiden was generally attached to his species, this was the first time the Primogenitor could actually witness how intense this preference could be like. She treated their three companions not any differently than humane offspring – hugging and caressing them with a beautiful smile on the petal-lips. Her words were selected with the same pure tenderness her own race experienced, too. Not to forget... how in return the little, cheeky creatures who never used 'thou' were clinging to his maiden. It was identical to the way the children in Ishgard. Even, when the draconic parents called their descendants, the small ones sulked not any less than the little humans before.  
“Aren't they cute? I wish they could stay a bit longer.” the Au Ra stated while she watched the three children vanishing in the huge building right behind them; Anyx Trine. Studying her beautiful mien for a moment, 'Midge' chuckled belated: “They may appear too impolite... Too innocent... But you marvel here creatures who are around thirty years old.”  
Her brows rose noticeably once he fell silent. “Seriously? Thirty years? That's hard to believe... How can they act like this when I'm with twenty years a recognized adult? In terms of personality, to be more specific. Why are their cores still so pure and unperturbed?” Shaking clearly his head, the Methuselah himself didn't know an answer for Cecilia's question.  
Children of his kind reached with one-hundred years the phase which Alphinaud as a teenager was currently experiencing; living until then with a mind so naive that manipulating them was easy to accomplish. And once they were partly grown up, his descendants acted rebellious towards everything that went against their believes. In other words... Nidhogg's hatred influenced his brood because of that draconic trait a lot; making it impossible for others to alter their train of thoughts. For dragons, one century was of course just a blink of the eyes, but if compared to mortal ideals... The seed of distrust was inherited in the very first moment a new life was born. No matter how long that life might last.  
His girl pulled him out of the gloom: “You need to talk more. Instead of getting lost in thoughts.” Wrinkling the nose a bit, the disguised antiquity replied embarrassed: “Apologies... I was only reflecting on the disadvantages my race possesses... Sometimes, I wish we were able to act more independent in our way of developing a general worldview. We're...” When words failed him, Cecilia reached out and caressed his left shoulder with soft touches. “It's okay to be narrow-minded. To be impressionable. I'm not any different.” “I truly dare to doubt that...” ,'Midge' smiled weakly, “You are perhaps an odd creature, but your strong mind is equal to your compassion. Just look at your decision to not slay us... No other human would do that.”  
She gave him a charming look once his right hand touched hers; fingers willingly making room for his own so that they were entwined. Midgardsormr felt a warm wave running over his spine when the maiden's thumb wandered tenderly over his skin. That feeling was so---  
“U-Uhm, excuse me... Can I ask a favor of you? I-It's important...”  
Another grandchild approached them – looking even more innocent than the other dragonets before. Inwardly, Midgardsormr groaned frustrated when Cecilia's hand slipped from his shoulder, whereby even her fingers left him, but he kept the emotion chained within himself. It wasn't the child's fault, that its Primogenitor was addicted to a mortal maiden...  
“What's the matter, little guy?” Cecilia asked friendly and leaned slightly forward. “T-The young Elezen and Ysayle were telling me, that one of their friends would be not only a powerful magician, but also a skilled Alchemist... Their description suits solely you, so... C-Can you try to help my injured brother?” Shrugging, the Au Ra stood up; changing to her Astrologian-attire within seconds. “Depends on his wounds, but I can at first take a look on him and then decide whether or not I'm able to cure him.” The little dragon smiled relieved while she put her Alchemist-equipment away; visibly ready to accompany the child. “Hey... Do you come with us, Midge?” she asked and eyeballed the 'Hyur' curiously, who wasn't sure if that would be a good idea.  
“He's a Dragoon, isn't he...?” ,the dragonet wondered, “Will he kill my brother if you can't help us?” Midgardsormr hardly bore his ill humor down. What an amusing boy... Even though he was naive, his insightfulness felt still refreshing. He was aware of the danger to approach mortals. Dragoons. And while this descendant wouldn't fall for the next-best friendliness without strongly doubting it, maybe he was nevertheless open-minded enough to give at least some humans a chance.  
Why else should he have come to them, now?  
A smirk lay on 'Midge' lips when he replied: “Just as Cecilia, I have so far never killed a dragon... This is something we do not intend to change. Therefore, thou could show us thy good manners and introduce thyself at least after begging for a favor, little one.” “Ah, pardon me! Normally, I don't forget my good upbringing... My name is Kal Myhk. A-And my brother is called Ohl Ahs. You can find him in the tunnel right behind Anyx Trine. He's laying on the ground. I, uhm... I really hope there's a way to help him. I don't want my brother to suffer...”  
“Let's see, what we can actually do for him.” ,the archmage stated enthusiastic while 'Midge' got onto his feet, “I can't promise anything until I have seen the problem, but I'll definitely try my best.” “T-That's all I ask for. Thank you, Cecilia!” the little dragon trilled happily.

The air was warm and heavy; a little bit moldy because of steam or rather gas.  
Midgardsormr remembered only vaguely the last time he had been allowed to neglect his duty in favor of visiting this place called Mourn... Back then, the Primogenitor wanted to see how Hraesvelgr's brood was prospering – while humankind was freshly inspired by Shiva's eternal love for the white dragon. It had been the beginning of a peaceful period for both races; a bright promise so tempting, that its later failure was similar painful to endure like Ratatoskr's death.  
Looking at Cecilia who was eager to see Kal Myhk's brother, 'Midge' reflected on the cruel timing her existence possessed. If she had been born one-thousand years earlier... Maybe even a bit more than that... This maiden could have changed the course of their fate. Any interference by her hands might have been enough to prevent the path which the past had taken.  
It might be a naive thought, yet the Methuselah found solace within this small illusion.  
Ohl Ahs slept right in the midst of the tunnel. Beholding this wyvern, a feeling close to pity crawled through Midgardsormr's consciousness. Albeit he had sworn himself to care only for his remaining children in a deeper way, the Primogenitor wasn't able to ignore the grandchild's obvious agony. When a corpus was hurt like this – perforated by bullets – one must have a heart made of stone to not experience any kind of empathy.  
Kal Myhk woke his brother up in order to allow Cecilia a look at the later's stomach. Unfortunately, the wyvern wasn't amused by that unwanted alarm-call-service. His bad mood became worse, when he noticed the two mortals standing next to his little sibling. And once the dragonet had explained the situation, Ohl Ahs was ultimately angry.  
“I will neither make my body nor my pride dirty with letting these... scurrilous hands touch me! After all, it were mortals who shot me from the skies – just as they did to many others of our kind. While we hunt prey to survive, they are just thirsty for blood. They enjoy pointless slaughtering. The mortals were excited when I crashed with damaged wings into Coerthas' snow. They left me for dying alone and continued their hunt. We can't trust humane children. NONE of them. These two you brought aren't any different. It is just a matter of time until they hurt you.”  
Keh, what an accusation... Bad joke... As if Cecilia could even harm them...  
Part of 'Midge' wanted laugh in bitterness; part of him wanted to bite the arrogant wyvern.  
The little dragon said baffled: “But why...? Cecilia and Midge have never killed any dragons before. And they were friendly to me. I do not understand...” The serious expression of Ohl Ahs' eyes made Kal Myhk falter. Looking nervous at the Raen and the 'Midlander', the child mumbled: “My brother wouldn't lie to me. You were very nice to me, so far, but... But now, I do really not know anymore, what I should believe. I need time to reflect on my brother's words.”  
The dragonet flew away; leaving them alone with his brother.  
Mentioned wyvern let out a warningly growl as Cecilia was about to open her mouth – not letting the maiden call for his brother. She immediately beheld Ohl Ahs with frustration, but he clearly didn't want to interact with her since he simply curled up again. This stubborn behavior earned him an icy glare from her irises. And according to the slight twitching of his shoulders, the wyvern didn't feel comfortable with her harsh gaze. However, the girl wasn't interested into arguing with Ohl Ahs. She made 'Midge' silently understand, that looking after the child had higher priority. Thus, the two of them left the teenager in favor of following his little sibling.  
As Kal Myhk was nowhere to find within the tunnel, Cecilia used the chance to vent her anger a bit while they walked to Mourn's exit: “Unbelievable... What an awful big brother... He's not any better than the usual humane scumbags in Ishgard... I already know why I'm not worshiping dragons as if they were some higher beings or deities... Sorry, if you find that impolite, but I won't sugarcoat it. Some of your grandchildren are idiots.”  
Midgardsormr's bad sense of humor had kept quiet all the time. Unimportant, how hilarious some situations had been. That now – of all things – his maiden was what made him fall over the edge... felt rather embarrassing than surprising.  
Anyways, Cecilia caused within his lungs a gale of laughter; one she witnessed with skeptical, severe eyes, while the disguised dragon even needed to hold his clenched stomach with both palms due to the physically-shaking sentiment. As his head turned red through both a lack of oxygen plus the strengthened dilemma, he tried to say: “N-No, it's me who has to... apologize... My descendants are... just a reflection of... my own spiteful nature... I am sorry...”  
Finally, the wave of dark amusement ebbed away.  
His left hand rubbed through his eyes; the right one gripped still the hurting flesh.  
Cecilia's humorless crystal and jewel scrutinized him with narrowed lids, whereby the Methuselah forced his nervous smile to disappear. “We stay sadly no innocent creatures once we grow up... That's not part of our mentality...” ,'Midge' explained shyly, “Humans tend to keep their simpleness, but for us changes maturity a lot about our thoughts and feelings... We're more radical and reckless; even more since the Dragonsong War started. Our hatred knows no end...”  
Midgardsormr froze when her arms suddenly entangled his neck.  
She was serious, yet sad when her forehead leaned against his own.  
“I understand that you guys are caught in your helplessness and anger. But I still wish you would channel that in another way. Not all humans deserve your wrath – some are like Ysayle and me. Some of us wish for peace instead of cruelty.” While she spoke, Cecilia touched his nape with tender fingers. Afterwards – probably because of his worried expression – the Raen sighed gloomy and withdrew slow-going. Unwillingness lay in every single motion...  
Controlled by mere instinct, the Methuselah couldn't allow her to let completely go like this. Not, when she wanted so visibly the opposite. When he himself also yearned for nearness... Hence, 'Midge' prevented her from retiring – his arms rushed behind Cecilia's back and kept the maiden where she was. Her brows rose noticeably: “What?” The tune hurt with its sadness...  
“I...” the dragon-father tried, but failed to recollect his thoughts. “If you want to cheer me up, Midgard... I think it's unnecessary. We should better continue to search for Kal Myhk.” she stated with resolution. But despite this apparently determination, a glimmer of wetness within the crystal provoked his attention. The Primogenitor couldn't ignore the damage which his outburst of gruesome humor had created.  
“I'm sorry...” ,he whispered and embraced her tightly, “I really am... horrible...” Cecilia gave – pressed against his chest – a weak, empty chuckle: “Well, you're definitely not good in caring for your dignity since you got this Hyur-vessel. That makes you indeed horrible.” His mouth caressed some scales on her neck before he murmured gently: “That's just because I can't keep up with you... You are truly strong. Ohl Ahs can consider himself lucky for not experiencing your anger. And I... must thank the Twelve for your decision to not punish me for my missteps.”  
He blushed when her hands pulled him up to her smiling face.  
“Stupid old dragon. I'm bad in punishing someone who I hold dearly in my heart.” the maiden explained for him with such a sweet mien, that the hue on his cheeks became even worse; burning. Her right hand wandered to his forehead while she noticed: “Hm, obviously you're a bit feverish. Do you want to rest in the meantime?”  
Shaking his head slightly, the Methuselah looked at the ground; trying to not focus any longer on her lovely words plus corpus that was so tempting close. His originally purposeful words left only stammering the vessel's mouth: “N-No-o... I-I am fine... Let us find the child...”  
He felt like dying when she gave his left cheek a soft kiss.

They followed the little dragon back to Anyx Trine.  
Kal Myhk sat outside of the building – on the ancient steps – and looked at them with guilty eyes once he noticed their presence. “Oh, you guys... I'll let my brother continue his sleep to make sure he won't become angrier. Considering his words... I would love it to trust you, but I fear my brother is right about mortals. I'm really sorry...”  
Enough. More than enough.  
If Cecilia had been alone with this kind of sadness, the antiquity wouldn't think about interfering. He would accept the situation just as she eventually had to. But this boy here was also suffering. One of his own kind, even. Furthermore... That sheer distrust between their races tore at another innocent heart, which could lose its hope should time continue to flow into the current direction... Another dragon who condemned mankind. Therefore, the whole case became ultimately too absurd as if Midgardsormr could willingly watch it any longer.  
'Midge' knelt down to the dragonet and asserted: “Thou told thy brother with thy very own words, that Cecilia killed no dragon before. Now look into her eyes and tell me, what thou can see there.” Kal Myhk stared puzzled at the foreign 'Hyur', before he abruptly followed the advice. Standing up and flying close to her face, the child commented: “Her right eye looks a little bit like my own do. She has just this funny gold-frame and of course no glow, so that she can't be mistaken for a dragon. And her left eye is like ice or a crystal. But I do not find it cold. It's... warm.”  
Smiling minimal, the Methuselah got also up.  
He tapped gently against the child's back of the head; asking: “And thou still thinkest she could change her mind and kill thee?” Looking at him, the little one shook his head. “No, I don't. If I was injured in lieu of my brother and would lie now in the halls of Mourn, surely I'd think like he does, but that isn't the case. I do not doubt his words – mortals can be heartless and cruel – yet not all people are identical. Cecilia really isn't like those who attacked him. … And for an unknown reason, I feel that I can trust you as well. You are more like us than men.”  
'Midge' grinned cynical.  
So, he was suddenly close to the edge... Being almost uncovered as a dragon in another vessel... This young one must be very wise when he could sense how different the 'Hyur' here was. However, in front of a grandchild, the Primogenitor wouldn't lose face and reveal headfirst his true identity. Only those of the First Brood deserved to know what kind of spirit was caged in this mortal shell.  
“Let us settle on this truth... I used to despise humankind with the same passion that drives still several creatures in this world mad.” he told the little dragon with unmistakable malice in the voice. Kal Myhk nodded unaware of the words' true meaning and stated: “You had surely a good reason for this. People can be cruel to each other, right? So... Uhm, if I haven't insulted you two too much with my confusion... Please, we must help my brother. Will you do this for me?”  
“Keh, of course. What else than helping is in your opinion our job?” ,Cecilia answered cheeky and put her hands onto the hips, “I am a healer, in the first place. It's my duty to cure your brother. Whether he likes it or not. And Midge doesn't let others down, too.” When the child gaped at him, the disguised Methuselah smiled fondly. Afterwards, the dragonet happily beamed: “Hehe, okay! Then, we should speak to mother. Surely she has an idea how to heal the injuries.”  
Mentioned parent – named Gullinkambi – sat in the large main-tower of Anyx Trine; taking care of her newest eggs. She was quite surprised when Kal Myhk appeared with two humans in tow and told her about Ohl Ahs' state of health. However, the female dragon was one of Ysayle's friends, whereby she was fond of peaceful mortals. Her unhappiness was directed towards something else: “I have warned him to stay away from Ishgard. He's paying now with blood for his disobedience... But his wounds will heal over time. We let nature its way; we sleep until our injuries are healed or perish in Mourn's halls. This is our philosophy, ever since.”  
Cecilia pouted and folded her arms. “Really? That's stupid. Even as ancient beings who can easily outlast several millennia, you waste willingly your time for nothing. If you ask me, it's definitely necessary to care more for your health.” she criticized.  
Gullinkambi took a close look at the young Au Ra with wide, curious eyes: “Hm... Thou remind me of somebody. A long time ago, he, too, wanted to help us. It was amongst the period of peace – when mortals and dragons were friends. Albeit a human life lasts only for the blink of a dragon-eye, he wanted to extend our lives instead of his own. A fascinating, good man... Possibly, the results of his work are still existent. If thou want to take a look at them, thou should go to the place he used to call 'home'. A hut made of stone, aloft the mountain.”  
The maiden raised her brows before she studied 'Midge' undecided: “Are you fine with climbing Mourn up? I'd understand if you don't like the idea.” If he was honest, the Methuselah wasn't eager to conquer a stony massive, but since there was nothing else for him to do, Midgardsormr wouldn't flee like this from his responsibility. “I still want to accompany you. It's my personal task, above all. You can always count on me.” the disguised dragon told her; smiling self-confident.  
Cecilia responded with a playful grin, which strengthened his resolution to support her. Afterwards, the girl said: “Then let's find that hut. Kal, lead the way! We humans give our best to follow you.”  
After an inconvenient ascent which made the antiquity miss his wings, they reached a small house. Both Raen and 'Midlander' rifled through several objects left within the building until the later found an interesting-looking stone-tablet. Albeit Cecilia was certain, that this old thing must be what Kal Myhk's mother had described before, she suggested to bring the item as a precaution to the grown-up dragon in order to confirm the suspicion.  
Back at Anyx Trine, Gullinkambi took instantly a look at the stone-tablet.  
It was indeed the recipe for a dragon-remedy. Although using medicine went against the natural course of life, she wouldn't refuse help for her teenage-son and expressed honest gratefulness towards both mortals. That being done, Cecilia instantly wanted to gather the different ingredients. 'Midge' and Kal Myhk knew, that they wouldn't be much of a help later – when it came to creating the remedy, hence they decided to assist the maiden in at least this one task.  
Therefore, the small group split up.  
Because his fatherly instincts didn't allow him to let such a little one alone, the 'Dragoon' settled for staying with the child; nonstop guarding him in order to keep hungry carnivores if necessary at bay. Midgardsormr had almost forgotten how it felt like to take care of a 'toddler', but the familiarity in this undertaking soothed at least partly the bitterness of letting Cecilia go alone. Surely he could have accompanied her... However, acting inefficient would waste the little time they had left before the other Warriors as well as their comrades would be ready to climb up Sohm Al. Thanks to that, the decision had been automatically made for him.  
Together with the little dragon, the 'Hyur' obtained plants, roots and berries; even horns plus fangs from a handful of animals. Once they had completed their part of the list, Kal Myhk and 'Midge' returned to Anyx Trine. Cecilia arrived just a minute later; switching back to her Alchemist-job once she appeared in their field of vision. The Au Ra immediately placed the stone-tablet on the ground and began the medicine's creation with so skilled motions, that both dragons – sitting next to her – were astonished by her precision. Considering the fact, that the recipe was foreign to the Alchemist, it didn't look like she would manufacture something unusual.  
Skilled mortals like her were really unique creatures... Creatures, who had once been friends with the immortal kind... Such shame to reflect here – in this place – on the second loss his species had to endure thanks to mortals' betrayal. Dragons had not only lost one of them... They had also lost their dear companions.

The remedy was actually an ointment.  
While 'Midge' got irritated because of that, his maiden looked satisfied by the result, so probably everything was alright. She knew what she did, after all. Healing as well as caring for others was her personal duty. Following, the three of them stood up – once the maiden put her equipment away – and went back to Ohl Ahs. Amongst the short trip, she changed back to her Astrologian-job, whereupon the archmage approached her patient with that that typical snowy-owl-robe. The pride in Cecilia's presence bewitched Midgardsormr entirely just by looking at his favorite mortal...  
She didn't bother herself with waking the wyvern up. Instead of that, her hands began immediately to rub the medicine into Ohl Ahs' wounds. When she abruptly stopped the treatment, both Kal Myhk and the disguised antiquity were irritated, but their wonderment vanished when her skilled fingers pulled something out of the dragon's injury without increasing the damage. It was small, black and definitely metallic... Another one followed; being a bit larger and less deformed... Many more, similar exemplars landed on the ground while Cecilia continued her work.  
To realize, what she had unexpectedly discovered, made the Primogenitor's stomach stir in unpleasant manner... Remnants of bullets. Willful distorted bullets. Humans alias Machinists had shot his grandchild with the malicious intention, that their enemy would suffer for a long while under the assault before his body should most likely succumb to its wounds.  
Tsk. So much for the big speech, that Ohl Ahs didn't need help... Without Cecilia's condolence and precision, the arrogant boy would soon have payed with his life for that stubbornness.  
Her gentle hands began to send healing energy into the injuries.  
Kal Myhk watched the Au Ra the whole time; being at least as impressed by this capable human as his grandfather was. Before she finished this last step of the treatment, Cecilia mumbled unhurried: “You should better let him continue his sleep, Kal... I presume he will still not understand our wish to help. Not even now.” The child shook wildly his head – her request was something a pure mind like his own couldn't accept. “But Ohl Ahs deserves to know what you did for him! He MUST! Please, let me try one more time to convince him of your goodwill. I promise he won't snap at you.” “Uh, fine by me...” ,the maiden sighed with a clear lack of enthusiasm, “Feel free to wake him when I completed this little detail-healing here. In other words... When I'm not next to his fangs.”  
Once she stepped a little away, Kal Myhk did what his conscience demanded.  
But of course the second forceful cancellation of necessary slumber wasn't amusing the teenager: “Hm...?! Why do you disturb my rest again?! And you dare to offend me by taking these skimmings once again with you! Can't you see I'm suffering--- … The pain... It's gone.”  
Taken aback, the wyvern eyeballed his wounds – too over-whelmed by the unexpected change as if he could hide his confusion. While Ohl Ahs tapped tentatively against one of these treated injuries, his sibling used the opportunity to explain the situation: “Listen, brother. Cecilia has medicated you with a remedy plus removed the strange objects from your body. Also, Midge here helped to find the ingredients for the cure; protecting me all the time. In other words... In pretty altruistic manner, they accelerated your recovery.” “Hmpf! What a useless effort. A dragon needs only sleep to heal his wounds. No silly tricks of mortals.” the teenager responded impolite.  
The child hissed unimpressed. He was this time obviously not caving to the harsh logic: “Brother, please reconsider. It is true, that we dragons recover while sleeping, but for doing so we require time that we don't have. Would you prefer to spend countless moons filled with pain in the darkness of Mourn? With my claws and fangs I couldn't do more than watching your suffering. But Cecilia and Midge were able to help you like none of us can. I can't deny, that many mortals in this world want to harm us. But you have to agree, that there are also those who want to help us. Don't you see, that these two are our friends?”  
Ohl Ahs reacted grumpy: “You shouldn't believe into illusions, brother. Their kindness does not annul my agony – and also not the pain of those who died because of Ishgard's men.” Afterwards, the teenager stared angered at Cecilia who still happened to be closer to him than the 'Hyur' was. The draconic eyes glowed just as if their owner was solely blaming her for all misdeeds his species had to endure. However, his gaze found only the severe determination her odd-colored irises were capable of; making him surrender once her authority settled down in his head.  
“Yet...” ,the teenager started to deliberate the coin's second side, “Mortals did not only injure me, but also heal me. … Your benevolence won't be forgotten, Cecilia and Midge... I thank you.” Subsequently, Ohl Ahs stood carefully up. He tested how much movement his corpus tolerated – and if his wings would carry him again. Cecilia watched him with exhilarated eyes; a healer's joy spreading quickly over her lips. When the wyvern was just like her clearly certain, that everything functioned properly, he added: “Times are changing. That is for sure. It's not easy for me to trust, but I will reflect on humans.”  
Ohl Ahs sounded serious – without delight, yet he nevertheless looked gently at his relieved sibling. The tender eye-contact they shared now was an explicit proof for the happiness both young dragons must experience in this very moment.  
“I don't expect more from you, brother. … I'll tell mother about the successful treatment. She'd surely be happy to hear, that the old remedy works.” the dragonet declared and turned around. “Wait, I come with you.” ,the maiden stated before Kal Myhk could leave, “Gullinkambi could surely make usage of a few tips considering the remedy in case it'll be again a necessity to create it. Maybe I should write that down for her...”  
As the two waltzed away from wyvern and 'Hyur', the later could not help but smirk to eavesdrop Kal Myhk's confusion about the mortal idea of preserving words in written form. Of course it was for dragons a needless ritual, since their kind remembered almost everything and passed knowledge to one another via singing their songs... But Midgardsormr had learned to cherish the humane way of saving wisdom. And this grandchild would sooner or later have the same realization, most likely. He had seen today, how valuable this trait could be, after all.  
“You do not accompany your friend?” the wyvern asked with pretended disinterest. A slight grin glided over the vessel's lips. “It appears obvious to me, that thou hast a question but no idea how to utter thy wonderment.” the disguised dragon replied before his eyes wandered to the teenager.  
Letting a puff of smoke emerge from his nostrils, Ohl Ahs hardly stomached 'Midge's' attentiveness. But once the irritation let go of him, the grandchild grumpily asked: “How come the two of you believe into a peaceful world? A world where dragons and mortals can simply live side by side? That's an interesting ideal for humans such as you are. Especially for... a Dragoon like you. Therefore, I... I would like to know your reasons for doing so. Can you explain them to me?”  
Albeit Midgardsormr wanted to give a neutral response, a tender smile conquered his mouth while he spoke about his maiden: “Cecilia never wanted to harm dragons. I do not know her since the day she was born, but I can nevertheless feel her seriousness whenever this topic emerges. She doesn't kill dragons. There's no draconic blood on her hands. Rather, it seems like a drop of the red liquid flows through her veins. Not because she's an Au Ra... but because of her heart. Her soul.”  
“And what about you?” the wyvern asked puzzled.  
Undecided, whether or not telling him the truth would be a good idea, the disguised antiquity studied his grandson's face. In the end, it was better to keep his identity a secret... The truth was even for himself difficult to handle. Yet... Ohl Ahs was no child anymore. With that, the Methuselah was willing to give him a slight hint – just as he had given Kal Myhk prior to this.  
“Peace is something all of us should seek. Not out of selfishness, though... We are blinded enough by intolerance and hatred... Personally, I prefer to only harm another creature if I truly must. Wearing this lance was a necessity; no free choice. Hence thou hast truthfully no reason to fear me. I won't hurt thee as long as there exists no reason for doing so. Perhaps I used to be cruel once, but... This time is over. And thou art not of a kind which I would want to destroy.”  
Perplexed, the teenager stared at him as if something very abrupt would have reached his thoughts. “You speak a lot like mother and the other old dragons. Is that common for some mortal classes or do you just mimic us?” “It is my natural dialect, if thou prefer to call it like that.” 'Midge' answered and turned around; ready to leave. “O-One last second, please! Are you... Are you maybe not really a human?” the grandson questioned agitated as if he was close to making a great discovery.  
Midgardsormr simply grinned devilish: “Time will tell.”

When he approached Gullinkambi, he was confused to see his precious maiden nowhere.  
Even Kal Myhk wasn't present... After a short conversation with the dragon-mother, however, Midgardsormr learned that Cecilia's personal brother just had called her per linkshell in order to direct the Raen to Anyx Trine's inner courtyard. Out of curiosity as well as the wish to share at least one more moment together, the dragonet was accompanying her before she would leave Dravania. 'Midge' could immediately relate to that desire... After biding farewell to Gulllinkambi, he hurried to catch up with his maiden and everybody else.  
The Methuselah was abashed to find under the sun's rays a very familiar, yet inadequate scene.  
Erik was cooking. Together with his personal sister, the gruff Hyur peacefully sliced vegetables and threw them into a large pot that smelled like meat would already be boiling on the inside. Underneath the metallic object shone a bonfire which Tammy and Carlos kept alive, while Bertram as well as Annika brought right now some dishes. Alphinaud and Ysayle watched the Warriors with slight embarrassment caused by their oddness – Estinien, on the other hand, wasn't at all irritated by his companions' doing. He sat simply nearby on the floor; waiting for the stew to be finished.  
“Hey Midge, would you mind some babysitting meanwhile? Don't want the cheeky kids to fall into the pot.” the Marauder called without looking up from his current task. Smirking partly amused, partly bugged, the antiquity came closer and gently pulled Kal Myhk away from the hot steam. Another dragonet had also tried to look a the aboil food, but the 'Midlander' prevented the little one just in time from leaning her nose too deep into the liquid.  
While the children perched unperturbed on his lance, the Methuselah asked: “How come thou art preparing a meal? I thought we are in a hurry.” The question wasn't meant to be cynical. Actually, Midgardsormr was truly confused by the sudden change of mind. But seemingly, the action wasn't as rushed as he thought: “An empty stomach is always a bad occurrence. We can't climb up plus fight beasts when we're distracted like that. So, I had anyways planned to cook together with Ceci some snacks for the next part of journey. Just mere coincidence, that our Elezen were the first ones to be hungrier than expected.”  
“At least the half of us.” the Azure Knight commented and nodded into the direction of Alphinaud and Lady Iceheart. This made both of them look abashed at the ground. “Big speech for someone who becomes noticeable silent once he needs a portion food.” ,Carlos stated with a side-glance at his grand-cousin, “I didn't know your big mouth can be so easily quiet by simply not feeding it.” Estinien frowned – despite the helmet quite visible – while his fingers were impatiently twitching. “Are you eager to get your own mouth filled with some metal? Because I got one right here that I'd love to make you eat.”  
Erik grumbled loudly right before the Blackmage could respond: “Ladies, food is almost ready. Make yourself useful instead of arguing about moronism.” That being said, the cousins kept silent and waited patiently for the Marauder's sign to fill the bowls with stew. “It's enough for everybody, so give the kids a bowl as well, Mister Knight.” he ordered soon; knowing for sure that Estinien wouldn't enjoy doing so, because an evil smirk lay on Erik's lips once the Azure Dragoon unwillingly squeezed the dipper in his hands way too tight.  
Kal Myhk and his friends sat next to Cecilia down once the frustrated elf had given them their meal. The children were absolutely amazed by Erik's cooking skills; praised the stew as the best thing they had ever tasted. While the Marauder pretended – as usual – to have completed better creations in the past, Midgardsormr was inwardly agreeing to the dragonets. However, this was not directly for the Hyur's responsibility...  
What truly made the antiquity adore this meal must be the passion he could taste within. The love... It was exactly, what Estinien had once told him as a puppet: Whatever Cecilia created was filled with the positive sentiments of her heart. Of course she had only assisted her personal brother, yet the difference appeared crystal-clear to him.  
Gaping at his maiden, the old spirit caged into a mortal vessel noticed relaxation spreading through all fibers when Kal Myhk – done with eating – climbed onto her legs for taking a short nap there. Had it been for any other creature, jealousy might have consumed him, but... This grandchild did in its innocence only, what 'Midge' would have aimed for in case he had still possessed a tiny shape.  
Through that, the Primogenitor felt peace to watch such nostalgic moment that reminded him of those times before mankind had betrayed them all... Even more waves of happiness emerged when the other dragonets curled up on Ysayle's and – who would have thought that – Erik's laps.  
Viewing his confiding grandchildren gave him a portion of hope... One, that felt more real than anything else he had witnessed so far between men and dragons in the last one-thousands years.  
Manipulated by the pleasure in his warmed chest, he leaned his head onto Cecilia's right shoulder. She was still busy with her dish, thus both crystal and jewel gave him a skeptical expression. 'Midge' couldn't help but chuckle muted about it. “Are you going to tease me for eating too slow?” the Raen asked with quiet words. Softly shaking his head next to that inviting neck, the Methuselah inhaled satisfied her sweetish scent before he finally explained himself: “Forgive me my manners... I am right now a little bit sentimental... I had almost forgotten how nice it could be...”  
He noticed her stiffening when his mouth touched afterwards the pearlescent scales, but the feeling in his heart consumed him currently too much as if he could withdraw from his girl. It was almost... as if the dragon was drunken because of joy... Fortunately, her muscles relaxed once the touch seemed to be no longer a threat in her opinion. “What exactly do you mean?” ,she calmly questioned while Midgardsormr sipped minimal at the flesh right over her scales, “Do you refer to spending time with your relatives?”  
A faint smile flitted over his lips. “Indirectly, yes... Having a family is what I meant.” he added; hardly containing the instincts which wanted to pull Cecilia into his embrace. Not, that he hesitated because of the others... 'Midge' knew their allies were distracted; conversing about a good strategy for climbing up Sohm Al kept them busy. With that, they weren't the reason why he tried to keep himself in check... Rather, the old dragon was thanks to his young vessel once more confronted with a longing so inexcusable, that he feared to break a frontier should his heart cave to it.  
“You are in truth more drawn to your kind than you usually allow yourself, correct?” the maiden wanted to know; compassion swinging in every word. “Indeed...” ,Midgardsormr murmured while his right hand sought against his will for her left hip, “Spending time with my silly descendants – just as you might describe it – is something I miss... deep in the core of my existence... very much... As Hydaelyn's servant, I possessed only limited options to stay with my brood, even though I had become a grandfather. Being nonstop a father before – as long as my little children had needed me – was already the uppermost I could enjoy... Cecilia, you have no idea, how valuable this one moment is for me... I... I thank you for letting me see it...”  
He couldn't suppress the tear which glided directly onto her skin.  
In response to that, Cecilia put the bowl down and placed her right hand onto his head. “Actually, you're quite emotional once your brain fails to stay logical, hm? You only push all the time away what's truly dear to you... and suffer alone under the surface of your stupidity.” the tender voice made the rough words sound like an angel's prayer. Simultaneously, her fingers massaged the skin underneath his dark-green hair in an affectionate manner like a mother would probably do.  
Shyness took hold of him, yet the dragon pressed nevertheless a kiss onto the skin under her ear. Sometimes it bothered him, how similar these horns were compared to odd auricles of seadragons... In a positive sense odd... They strengthened the familiarity she let him experience, after all...  
His nose glided hesitantly over her cheek. “I am ineffably glad... that you show me many different facets of humankind. Thanks to all these new impressions, I can have this precious glimpse of hope. I feel hope again; just because of you...” he whispered mesmerized. But then... his thoughts made another step. A step which choked all words that were meant to follow completely. 'We are going to risk it. Risk everything... Destiny can take all my joy away with just one blink of an eye...'  
His right arm wandered up to her shoulders; pressing the young woman so tightly against his head, that her hand slipped from his hair. Cecilia's voice was almost not audible when she asked: “Midgard...? Are you alright...?”  
Wet eyes closed, the dragon shook his head.  
It was useless... Fighting the longing was impossible...  
Abruptly, he sat up. Pulled her back wordless against his chest; hardly able to consider the sleeping child on her legs. He simply needed to hold the Raen. Needed to feel her on his lap in order to know she wouldn't immediately leave him... When his face rested on her head – buried in her silky hair, he quivered while both lids and jaws clenched painfully under an immense fear that threatened to swallow him entirely down. Therefore, his arms entwined Cecilia too tightly, but she didn't struggle against the harsh contact. Remarkable...  
“Midgardsormr...” the maiden addressed him with his full name; worry and gentleness mixed into such heavenly, beautiful melody, that she made the Primogenitor fall irremediable over the edge of his remaining self-control.  
“I can't lose it... Please, do not let me lose it again...” ,he begged; voice broken while tears streamed over the vessel's cheeks, “Should your journey have another outcome than you all wish for... PLEASE, do not face my raging son... Stay away from Nidhogg... I cannot lose hope once more... Couldn't take it... I couldn't take it... to lose you...”  
Her left hand brushed the saltwater from his lids. Even though the position must be uncomfortable, her arm stayed outstretched for gently caressing him. She was undeniable sweet, but... “Cecilia... This won't... cheer me up... I know you will follow your duty... even if it should only be out of responsibility for your Dragoon-friend... There's nothing which could change your course... I know my begging is futile...” the Methuselah tried to save the last bit of his dignity while he hammered forceful the knowledge of her fate into his consciousness.  
He petrified when her head turned around; just enough in order to softly bite his neck.  
“We will see what happens next. Don't you dare to give already up like this. It's not my plan to leave my dragon alone.” she told him muted with a steady voice, before her mouth returned to punishing him for his outspoken anxiety. Midgardsormr couldn't move or breath when she sucked his skin. The Methuselah only felt his face heating so much, that he needed to lift it into the air for cooling the temperature somehow off. Oh Her grace, please help...  
“And that's for teasing me before.” the Raen whispered and licked along his carotid-artery.  
The vessel's heart threatened to shatter his ribcage into pieces. 'Midge' didn't know whereabouts with himself; couldn't control the impulses deep down. Had they been alone, he might have grabbed her and released whatever burning sentiment in his heart needed to be released, but the way it was, the disguised antiquity only shivered unstoppable and gave a quiet moan.  
“I... understand... No extra worries... And no more confusing actions...” he barely made it to not ask for mercy. Her demonic grin on his neck went not unnoticed, but 'Midge' couldn't punish the maiden since he himself had in the very end started these strange gestures between them.  
“Okay then. Now let me eat the rest of my food.” she stated innocently and grabbed her bowl again. When true relief confronted an odd kind of frustration within the over-strained Primogenitor, Cecilia quickly ended the clinch via leaning the back of her head in trustful manner against his left shoulder. She soothed his ambitious drum to the point where it worked peaceful in his humane shell, so Midgardsormr calmed entirely down.  
Once she had consumed the last drop of stew, however, the dragon couldn't help but admit: “These... strange, physical hoaxes... I fear I am addicted to them...” Nervously, his arms around her twitched once he had voiced his concern, but she just snuggled her back more into his embrace. Cecilia chuckled: “Unfortunately, it looks like the others are almost ready to continue our journey. Though... Dear old dragon, don't think you would be alone with enjoying these touches.”  
While she was busy with waking Kal Myhk up, Midgardsormr blushed as the meaning of her words settled down in his brain. “Are... Are you serious...?” he asked shyly when they stood together with the dragonet up. Her initial-response to his question was a lovely smile that bewitched him entirely. Strengthened the magnetism... But what truly moved him was the following answer.  
“Yes, Midgard.” she whispered; making his heart drown in a flood of affection.

The horde didn't really take care of their holy mountain.  
Realizing this left a bitter taste on Midgardsormr's tongue, albeit he understood that minor creatures such as slimes and elemental sprites weren't something his kind would normally concern itself with. Even several plant-monsters had normally no significance to dragons, yet the Primogenitor couldn't help but despise how little his grandchildren from Nidhogg's side were willing to protect Sohm Al. If it wasn't for fighting humans, their life seemed to possess neither ambition nor elation.  
'Tools. Unlike Hraesvelgr's brood. If they survive or not has no meaning to their sire.' he thought crestfallen when the Warriors made an orange dragon escape instead of facing their foe until death. Had he owned a dragon-shape, the Primogenitor might have tried to reason with every drake and wyvern who crossed paths with the group, but their empty eyes and irate voices told him how much Nidhogg had raised these descendants to be not more than mere pawns in this war. He had known his son's strategy before, yet the agony which emerged anew in his chest didn't become any lighter by clinging to logic.  
Passing both a heated and an icy area within the mountain, Midgardsormr began to worry how long the adventurers might be able to avoid any unnecessary deaths. For now, Estinien was behaving well enough to at least not slay his sworn enemies, but who knew when this generosity would make room for his true sentiments... Lady Iceheart would be unable to stop the Dragoon; that was certain. She wouldn't be more of a challenge than Alphinaud at the moment, even though the teenager might one day have the power to make miracles happen. And despite the Job they shared, 'Midge' doubted he could ever keep up with his senior to prevent the Azure Dragoon from slaying 'pangolins'.  
Erik seemed to share the Methuselah's concern.  
Although the Hyur's knowledge of the time-flow made him less skeptical. Keeping Estinien partly in his field of vision was rather a precaution than a true necessity, thus there shouldn't be any reason to worry about the Elezen's actions as long as the Warrior's leader stayed calm. Midgardsormr tried seriously to relay on this fact, yet found doing so clearly difficult under the current circumstances. He couldn't claim to trust a sworn enemy of his kind... Of course he bore respect for Azure Knights; no matter how stoic and arrogant this specific mortal might be. After all, the elf had trusted 'Midge' as a comrade even though he hadn't known him personally. But...  
If Estinien wouldn't see another way, then the deaths of even more grandchildren were guaranteed. This possibility couldn't be ignored. Even Cecilia with that never-ending determination to spare draconic lives seemed to have succumbed to disillusion.  
As the group was close to reaching the mountain's peak, four young dragons attacked them without a warning. One of these exemplars darted directly for Cecilia, whereupon Midgardsormr reflexively countered without reflecting on his undertaking. All he had in mind was shielding his precious girl... However, when the vessel's lance didn't just keep the dragon at bay... When it pierced forthright into that right wing, the disguised antiquity petrified due to realizing the result of his protective instincts. Realized, how much of a traitor he had become.  
'What... What have I done...?' he thought; frightened by the very first time his own hands had injured one of his own kind. This self-abhorrence made him stay where he was while the grandchild recovered from the blow, so his descendant used the next moment to breathe a salvo of fire at him. The pain which rushed now over 'Midge's' skin was immense, yet the sentiment couldn't settle profound into his shell because the maiden immediately healed him. As he begrudgingly relished the soothing energy, the Methuselah watched only marginally when the mortals took care of all four opponents. His thoughts were too distracted for paying completely attention to the battle's outcome, though the escape of the hurt 'pangolins' should somewhat calm him...  
Cecilia's Astrology-treatment ended, yet the vanished agony of his corpus made only more space for his nervousness. “What happened to me...? How could I...?” Midgardsormr whispered confused and slightly shook his head in emerging panic. The pure sentiment began to overwhelm him; he grabbed his lance tightly with the right hand and pulled at his hair with the left. Stiffened in pain... Oooh, this moment was just pathetic... The sad gaze his maiden gave him made the guilt even worse, since he didn't want her to feel responsible for his impulsive action plus sorrow... If the Raen would now reach out for him, her touch might be too much for him to endure...  
“Loverboy, get a grip! We're not finished yet!”  
The alerting pitch in Estinien's voice made the Methuselah snap out of his inner terror.  
As soon as he glanced up, 'Midge's' muscles tensed once he saw another dragon approaching them. Someone, whose pitch-black body in the sky he knew enough in order to recognize its owner...

“Tioman.” the Azure Knight stated correctly.  
Cecilia came closer to 'Midge'; unsettledness in her very presence. “So we indeed have to face Nidhogg's mate...” the maiden murmured discontented and stepped before the 'Hyur' as if she feared he would be the foe's main-target. Part of Midgardsormr couldn't believe how little she trusted his mental powers; part of him was fond of her wish to guard him. “I had warned you once in the past, that she guards the entry to the Churning Mists...” ,Estinien grumbled muted as the female dragon landed gracile on the floor, “She will be a dangerous enemy to combat. Hopefully you two pacifists can at least dodge her attacks. I don't want to see you dying here, Cec.”  
“Not going to happen.” the Raen said coldly and drew an Astrologian-card.  
Erik grinned once the green color of mentioned object became visible: “Bertram, I entrust you with tanking the lady here. We others will give our best to take her down. You're ready?” “Hah, yes! Sounds like a funny battle.” the Roegadyn nodded smiling just before Tioman opened her maw in order to spit black flames at the group. The fire touched all of them, but the Astrology-skill combined with Annika's white-magic negated the whole harm.  
Smoke-plumes weren't entirely gone when the Paladin approached their foe with surprising speed; hitting her right foreleg with his sword. Tioman immediately focused her attacks on him, whereby Erik and the damage-dealers used their chance to join the fight. Only 'Midge' stayed behind – unable to attack once more a grandchild – so that he could do nothing else but supporting his allies with a Dragoon's Battle Litany.  
It became a harsh confrontation. Even more once the dragoness decided to make use of her trumps. She summoned small asteroids that had nevertheless an impact-power high enough to tear everything in their near apart. Her wings turned the color of cold-glowing violet while their hard- and sharpness would cut mortal flesh into pieces. And her fire enhanced with a foul substance similar to acid; allowing it to corrode even stone.  
Midgardsormr couldn't accept his own helplessness once he saw the life-threatening moves that Tioman used nonstop against the mortals. Since even Estinien had until now spared the lives of all drakes they were encountering, he wasn't able to bear the guilt of a double-betrayer anymore. Putting all physical power he had into his legs, the disguised dragon pulled Cecilia as well as Annika out of the danger-zone when another asteroid-rain threatened to fall down. Then, he hauled Tammy and Carlos away from the impact-area.  
“What's your plan?” the Azure Knight appeared next to 'Midge'; having a protesting Alphinaud plus Ysayle under his arms, while Erik reached the group per feet. Estinien's trustful expression underneath the helmet was – though the Methuselah hated himself for feeling that way – flattering. Who would have expected so much readiness for teamwork coming from the Elezen...  
“Get Bertram out of this. I take care of Tioman.” the 'Hyur' advised and jumped into the air.  
Part of him didn't have expected to see instant-obedience... The surprise was welcome yet irritating. He didn't know, why his senior listened to him... But this didn't matter for now. In the moment he had reached the highest point of his leap, Estinien grabbed the Paladin-Roegadyn. While the Elezen pulled both of them away, the disguised antiquity began to call upon that force which mortals had foolishly named 'Limit Break'. Shaped like strong electricity-impulses, the accumulated power of battle-companions gave his corpus an enormous boost. A power he unleashed right in the moment his shape crashed down onto Tioman's back.  
The Primogenitor wasn't aiming for killing his granddaughter. He couldn't bring himself to punish her murderous intentions with something equal. Midgardsormr couldn't... Yet, he willingly broke the bones of the dragoness' wings and shattered temporarily her ability to create asteroids.  
“I am sorry...” his choked voice left a burning throat when he pulled the lance out of her ribcage. Tioman stared wrathful at him and hissed scornful once she saw his tears. “Be damned for eternity, foolish mortal. Thou should have killed me instead of showing mercy.”  
Wordless, 'Midge' hopped from her back and brushed the drops with a swift motion of his right arm from the eyelids. He couldn't allow his companions to see the deep-rooted agony which his action had brought to him... They would either not understand his balefulness or be even more worried about the rightness of his decision to join this trip...  
“That was a fantastic blow. You're really an impeccable Dragoon.” the Azure Knight praised him as the group went to the growling enemy. “She's pretty beaten.” ,Erik noticed with furrowed brows, “We should take her life as long as we can.” While Midgardsormr and Cecilia twitched in shock – unable to grasp the reason for this sudden change of mind – Ysayle objected: “Wait a moment! Tioman cannot even move with all these injuries! There's no longer any reason left to consider such a cruel step! I know she's our enemy, but the danger she meant is for now averted. It wouldn't be right to harm her any further.”  
The other humans seemed undecided whether or not killing the dragoness would be a good choice. Estinien was of course fond of this possibility, yet didn't voice that obvious thought. Instead of that, he just orbited around the powerless foe with calm steps; always ready to counter should she decide to attack him. Watching the Azure Knight's unperturbed motion had a hypnotic effect...  
Then, somebody else moved as well. Cecilia abruptly put her hands around Erik's right arm; gripping tightly the fabric on his skin. The Marauder gazed at his 'sister' with furrowed brows plus strong hesitation. “Brother, please... Let Tioman alive. No more sacrifices...” the maiden begged; her heartbreaking expression even able to convince that insensitive, personal sibling she had gotten. Albeit it was completely against his will, the axe-bearer sighed resigned: “Okay, okay... I am sure this shouldn't happen, but it's indeed not like she could do anymore dangerous stuff...”  
Widening his eyes, Midgardsormr realized finally why the Hyur wanted to kill Nidhogg's partner... On Erik's parallel Hydaelyn, Tioman had been slayed. So in other words... Her death was inevitable a part of the original time-flow.  
An ugly laughter emerged from the dragoness' maw.  
“Thou little insects and thy pitiful compassion. It'll be the grave of all of thee.” Clicking his tongue, Estinien remarked without caring for the weakened enemy: “We came here to converse with Hraesvelgr, not Tioman. My main-priority is Ishgard's protection. Whoever stands in this goal's way will be eliminated. And if I can jab with that the black heart of my archenemy, it's even better. … Should you need some motivation, just reflect on this: She attacked us even after we haven't killed any of her relatives here. Do you really think she deserves absolute mercy? Was her interim attempt to devour Annika and the boy suddenly correct?”  
Mentioned Lalafell and Alphinaud looked guiltily at the ground. It was true, that the dragoness saw easy pray within both of them, yet the two could obviously not bring themselves to feel contempt for their foe. Midgardsormr was touched by these innocent souls, albeit he knew that no member of the horde deserved this humane sympathy.  
He himself was a fool to have spared the granddaughter's life...  
As if she wanted to approve of the Azure Knight's words, Tioman suddenly twitched and snatched Cecilia's left arm. Her motion was too quick to comprehend for mortal eyes, but the disguised father of dragon-kind watched in slow-motion how the dragoness' fangs dug deeply into the Raen's flesh. The red drops which splattered around threw him into his personal abyss of guilt and wrath, yet Midgardsormr wasn't the one who repaid the harm brought to the sweet maiden...  
It took Estinien just the blink of an eye to act on the attack. His Gae Bolg pierced Tioman right into the skull; breaking the brain-pan with that single, swift jab. In the back of his head, the Methuselah heard his son's hate-filled roar – without the tiniest whiff of heartache.  
“Nobody dares to hurt my allies unpunished. At the most not HER.” the elf said with a cold voice and ultimately ended the life of Nidhogg's mate with one smooth motion. The mental scream coming from the Eye faded into deep, vengeful growl...  
Meanwhile, Midgardsormr's heart stopped beating for a moment, because he was yet over-strained by the whole situation... His instincts were strongly rebelling against the loss of another grandchild; his draconic pride close to compelling him to punish the enemy of his species... He couldn't allow even more violence against his own descendants...  
“You're such an idiot!”  
The voice of his precious maiden brought him back to senses.  
While the others stared paralyzed at a cluster of dark particles – emitted from Tioman's corpse until nothing of her physical remnants was left anymore – the archmage irately affronted her savior for another time: “You are the most stubborn, FUCKED UP ASSHOLE I have EVER met in Eorzea!” The bleeding of her left arm seemed to increase completely unnoticed by her, because all she cared for was hitting Estinien's cheek with her right hand.  
“And she was just a monster. A shallow being whose love was not even strong enough to let her die like those dragons you call your friends. She left this world like a beast; nothing left to mourn. Consider this before you insult me again.” the Azure Knight said calmly plus took Cecilia's arm despite her clear struggle.  
With surprisingly soft touches, the armored hands swiftly pulled her snowy-owl-sleeve up and dabbed the bleeding flesh with a white cloth until it was more or less dried.  
“Just to make sure, that you won't become infected...” Estinien murmured before opening the right arm-protector. Then, his bared fingers carefully rubbed ointment into her bite-wound. Once his skin made like that contact with hers, the maiden stopped all resistance despite obvious displeasure. Slowly, she caved to the treatment's relief. Caved to the connection to her companion...  
The dragon-father beheld this intimacy between both Au Ra and Elezen with frightened eyes.  
He always felt how these two were choking their friendship, yet this entire moment showed intense, how much pain Cecilia's decision brought to them. Surely nobody could blame her for being afraid of the Eye's influence that could be triggered by the simplest argument... But was that really worth all the distress they had to endure?  
Erik next to him was also witnessing Estinien's first aid.  
'We Warriors had originally killed Tioman in my world because she gave us no other choice. I knew she wouldn't accept our mercy this time, since death was her forgone fate, but somehow I had hoped to be wrong... Well, at least Ceci wasn't paying too much for my mistake... I just need to make sure, that this won't repeat whenever she tries to change my mind. After all, I know the future, so sticking to the most important occurrences is the only way to come close enough the imminent catastrophe in order to stop it.' the Hyur told him via telepathy.  
Nodding, Midgardsormr watched how Annika joined the archmage's treatment, while the others tried to lighten the mood a little. If there would just be something he could do in order to make Cecilia feel better... Although the dragon was bound to the maiden, he had allowed his descendant to injure her arm; had done nothing to avenge this unnecessary act of violence.  
He didn't know, how to apologize for the missing reaction, but felt like the burden on his shoulders grew larger thanks to his own helplessness...

As the group traveled in the next ours through the Churning Mists, the ancient dragon felt no solace to watch the shenanigans of the Moogle-tribe once his companions had initiated contact to them with the help of Kan-E-Senna.  
The heart in his chest hurt each beat it made – and this wasn't for the unaccustomed high.  
Although his maiden seemed not to blame him for Tioman's last assault, Midgardsormr couldn't stop placing the whole responsibility onto himself. With that, both Dragoons of the troop weren't enjoying the winged fluff-balls' tricks – a shame if one remembered 'Midge's' original amusement considering this race...  
After completing several tasks, the mortals proved themselves worthy in the eyes of the beast-tribe's leader Moglin, who acted as some kind of assistant for peaceful Great Wyrm. From him, the group obtained a summoning-horn meant to be used for calling Hraesvelgr at an old temple called Zenith. Erik encouraged his comrades to set immediately out with a tourist-guide-Moogle by their side, but dusk had already run past them. When they came slowly closer to the giant building, night spread already over the sky; disabling their plan to meet the dragon today. As if this wouldn't be demoralizing enough, the long march finally took its tribute – making the majority of them sleepy. Thanks to this, they decided resigned to pitch camp in the next-best area.  
Lightened by the warm shine of a small bonfire, the gruff Marauder cooked quickly a simple meal in his large iron-pot. The vegetables Erik used were a little bit poor in consideration of their size, but at least the taste was admittedly formidable. And together with all that dark monster-flesh which the Warrior's leader had collected before on Sohm Al, everybody was able to fill their stomachs. Even the Moogle who still accompanied the group ate a few bites.  
Once their late dinner was finished, the tourist-guide fell asleep. All adventurers but their boss and 'Midge' followed unhurried that example, whereupon the later sat soon next to a sleeping Raen. Midgardsormr scrutinized the girl for a moment – as her slumbering shape snuggled up to his hip – before he allowed himself to relax. Lost in thoughts, his right hand wandered automatically over Cecilia's white-golden hair, while her personal brother conversed with Alphinaud, Estinien and Ysayle. For several minutes, the disguised dragon listened only to the tiny noises his maiden made, until he spontaneously decided to pay attention to their companions.  
As usual, Estinien was mocking Alphinaud. But for an unknown reason, this time embarrassment didn't make the boy fall silent when the Azure Knight finished his derision with an especially harmful comment. Instead, the teenager's mien turned only into a doleful mask.  
“Sadly, I must agree with you... If you all hadn't taught me some things about surviving in the wild, I wouldn't be able to keep up with you now. Being the son of an influential Sharlayan representative as well as a so-called child of prodigy at the magic-academy doesn't mean much in this world... Science was from the very beginning an easy field of activity for me, but working for the Scions made me realize how little I truly know about our planet. I was used as a mere tool, was deceived by false comrades and could not even do anything in order to save my friends... If this does not cause any derision, then I can't imagine what else might be ridiculous enough.”  
Listening to the boy, Midgardsormr felt true pity within his heart.  
He himself... used to look down on the young Elezen.  
The dragon used to scorn the child's ambition to create a group which should combine aspects of both adventurers as well as the three Grand Companies. Above all, when he unwillingly supported Alphinaud back then in Ul'dah's prison, the Primogenitor had despised doing so with every single fiber of his existence. So, he had been not any better than Estinien... And albeit he finally cherished every struggle Alphinaud gave in order to become a better human, 'Midge' considered his former, dismissive opinion to be all the more dreadful.  
Lady Iceheart was the first who said something. Acting a lot like an older sister or mother around the teenager, she gave her best to cheer him up: “Don't be sad, you're not alone... We all don't know everything. We do not know the reasons for our wars. We do not question the leaders we follow – just as sheep walk to shambles. Albeit the vision I gained through Hraesvelgr made me see the truth, I still supported Nidhogg's brood without realizing the consequences beforehand. I had been naive and thought I could handle the guilt all by myself. How wrong I have been...”  
Then, Ysayle looked at the sleeping Cecilia – melancholy and lugubrious. The Elezen appeared drawn to her since the moment the Au Ra gave Ysayle a tongue-lashing in Western Coerthas... Somehow, her incapability – to voice the admiration she felt for Cecilia – was a likeable thing. Midgardsormr, at least, could relate to that, albeit he was aware of Lady Iceheart's feelings being solely friendship and nothing more.  
Meanwhile, the child thought loudly: “Nobody is born omniscient. We learn by making mistakes. No matter what happens, we must keep our path and believe into ourselves. This is something that I learned by accompanying all of you. And there's actually just one thing I wish I wouldn't have done in the past... If I hadn't formed the Crystal Braves, maybe the whole incident in Ul'dah wouldn't have happened.”  
Estinien let a fond smile slightly conquer his thin lips while he commented: “Don't blame yourself, Alphinaud. You're after all only sixteen years old. When I was as old as you, I hunted squirrels and felt like the king of the world. Compared to me back then, you're the personalized maturity. Furthermore, even today there exist many things I cannot comprehend.”  
Midgardsormr noticed despite the helmet, how the Dragoon's eyes searched for the sleeping beauty. The view of Cecilia made his smile vanish and wormed a sight out of him that the disguised dragon was only able to hear because of his still superior senses. How could the Azure Knight endure that emotional barrier between them without ever fighting for their friendship...?  
The Azure Knight focused his gaze at something else. At Hraesvelgr's domicile.  
“Impressive, these ruins. I didn't know, that we mortals created together with dragons such noble buildings – as friends. Who would have expected, that the Moogle can be useful history-teachers... Unfortunately, the times of peace are over. Nidhogg had killed my parents; his species is my enemy. I do not know, how the conflict will end, but it definitely has to end. Otherwise, many others will have to suffer the same fate as I.”  
The Elezen's eyes searched once more for Cecilia – this time open to see for the whole group. Estinien seemed not only to refer to the loss of dear family-members plus friends... But the hidden, alternate meaning of his words was unknown to 'Midge'. “I have the power to destroy Nidhogg and his brood. If I get the chance to do so, I will take it.”  
Erik chuckled darkly before Ysayle stood enraged up.  
“How can you be so grim?!” she accused her fellow-Elezen. Mentioned man wasn't impressed, thus he looked directly at her when he spoke: “If Hraesvelgr can't give us any alternatives, my decision is ultimately made. Therefore, you better have a few good arguments to convince the Great Wyrm.” Lady Iceheart was at first perplexed to hear such a concession, yet began quickly to smile under Estinien's generosity. “I do, don't worry. As I carry Shiva's will, I'm able to find the right words to reach him.”  
The Warrior's leader hummed with a deep tune normally used to approve of something, but Midgardsormr noticed the slightly different pitch within it nevertheless. And since the gruff Hyur came from future of a parallel world's future, the dragon could easily count one plus one together... Ysayle would probably fail to assure Hraesvelgr of the plan to stop Nidhogg.  
“We shall see tomorrow, if we're successful or not, so we should take some rest now; like the others. After all, Ceci wouldn't be happy if we travel to Zenith in a dozily state.” the teenager smirked. Grinning, Erik nodded: “True. Let's sleep a little before the night is over. By the way, I'm going to cook us some eggs before we set out, so I hope you're all hungry in the morning.”  
Once everybody had expressed their pleasure about this outlook, they lay down on the ground.  
'Midge' was freezing a little despite the warming fire, so he hesitantly huddled against the maiden. However, the Methuselah didn't expect her high temperature to work this time on him... It wasn't for the night's cold, that his corpus was minimal shivering, after all... Nervousness took hold of Midgardsormr's draconic instincts a fortiori he reflected on the next day... He was clearly afraid, that his depressive son might see through the facade – and other than Nidhogg, Hraesvelgr carried no longer any spark of courage to face life. Destroying a broken existence of his kind any further went completely against every morale the Primogenitor possessed. So, if he wanted to support Cecilia and the other humans, the only right thing to do was staying entirely unnoticed...

The pretty little girl of his dreamworld studied him with worried eyes.  
“You don't want to accompany your friends? But why? Don't they need you?”  
Chuckling mirthless, the adolescent dragon framed his elfish child with his entire corpus.  
“I might only cause trouble for them.” ,he softly told his beloved illusion, “When my true identity should be discovered, this won't help the humans at all to convince Hraesvelgr of their pure wish.” “So you... let them go alone?” she asked gloomily. His nostrils vibrated a bit when he forbid himself to laugh. Cecilia's regular sulking was already awful temptation for his bad humor of an old man, but the child-version his brain had fabricated seemed even worse. Come to think of it... Since this was a dream, there was actually no reason to keep himself in chains...  
A small laughter rolled in his throat – only so much he knew it wouldn't be too insulting. His little girl grumbled muted about the rudeness, but began giggling when he tenderly rubbed over her head. Inhaling that sweet scent, the antiquity lightly squeezed the breakable shape between his muscles. He wished this illusion could last forever... Wished to stay with this little Cecilia... To sleep forever. For what should he even wake up... The world was such a violent place...  
“I suppose HE doesn't find your idea okay.” the child abruptly stated.  
Confused, he looked up and let his eyes search for whatever the little girl was currently beholding. Midgardsormr's brows twitched once he found in the air the other creature of his dreams. Mentioned being was about to land on the meadow – not far away from them – while Cecilia added: “Avoiding the meeting with Hraesvelgr is something he finds naive, Papa. You shouldn't abandon your friends just because of a small risk.”  
The old drake wiggled his corpus minimal back into its initial position while the snow-white, heavenly dragon scrutinized him with patient eyes. Since the later didn't seem to be interested into talking, Midgardsormr asked with a direct gaze at Cecilia: “Tell me... Are you his spokeswoman?” She hesitated and gaped undecided at the fluffy creature. But her silent begging for help didn't persuade the other illusion. He was folding his winged arms in order to place the head onto them; lids shut easygoing without caring for the child.  
Harrumphing, Midgardsormr's little girl finally turned back to him.  
“I am. At least... kind of. I know what he's thinking. And he knows my thoughts, too. We are like...” “...two sides of the same coin?” the Methuselah questioned when she stopped talking. The lovely mirage nodded and stared at the wyvern-like creature who still pretended to doze. “If you do not go with your friends, it would be a waste of time to have accompanied them from the very beginning. Also, your sudden change of mind won't calm their nerves while they're going to meet your son.” the small girl explained in lieu of the white creature. Once she was done, these pale eyes in blue color opened minimal in order to watch Midgardsormr.  
Not sure what to say, the Primogenitor lowered his head without looking away from his savior. Although this dragon was only a reflection created by his subconsciousness, it was admittedly hard to not treat him like the original... “Thou art serious when thou want me to go with them?” he asked the heavenly existence. Midgardsormr's dream-version of Cecilia replied quickly yet professional for the other illusion: “Yes.” Simultaneously, the blue irises including the light-blue scleras began to glow in icy color. A deep growl followed.  
The Methuselah's fin-like ears jerked a little because of that unmistakable threat.  
But nevertheless, he wasn't willing to demonstrate weakness: “Since thou art fabrications my mind has created, thou should know how true naivety looks like. If I accompanied the mortals and would reveal myself to Hraesvelgr, the consequences could be even worse than the worst scenario Iceheart's wrong belief might cause. I cannot risk that.” The white dragon growled louder; fur and feathers turning more bristly as his silvery claws scratched over the ground. The long, fluffy tail scourged the nearby flowers until they were ruined.  
“He says you underestimate your child. Have you considered what might happen to your friends should Hraesvelgr want to get rid of the intruders? After all, the majority of them has draconic blood on their hands. And Ysayle is – just as you said – following a Primal's path. Furthermore... The real Cecilia doesn't shy away from conflicts. Do you think she wouldn't provoke your son?”  
Listening to the child as the dragon's spokeswoman didn't make his words sound any less harsh.  
He was aware of everything his 'maker' knew, so this special version of Midgardsormr's conscience would probably insist on the meeting no matter which disadvantage doing so might have. And even though the risk was immense from the Primogenitor's point of view, the wyvern-like entity had indeed a good reason to advocate the monitoring of that crucial moment...  
Midgardsormr twitched when his lovely illusion tapped against his neck. Gazing down at the girl, he was puzzled to see her unhappy mien. Both crystal and jewel lacked confidence when she whispered: “I'm sorry, that was very impolite... Are you angry now?” Confused, the Methuselah stomached the realization, that his brain was even perfectly miming Cecilia's sensitivity. However, he didn't get the chance to calm the Au Ra no matter her origin. When he was about to comfort her, the wyvern-like being snorted audible, whereupon the girl stared indignant at him.  
“What's wrong with apologizing?” she grumbled and put the fists onto her hips.  
Other, then the true maiden, this child here wasn't frightening once anger took hold of her. Rather, she could be described as... being cute. The other illusion seemed to share Midgardsormr's idea, because he gazed relaxed at the little Au Ra with lowered lids and slightly vellicating ears. Though, the dragon was obviously saying something to the little one, since she started pouting.  
Putting the arms around Midgardsormr's neck – as much as her tiny corpus compared to his grown, yet young shape allowed – she poked her tongue out at the heavenly entity. “I have to speak for you, so I can apologize when your words were harmful. If you don't like it, you could stop mocking me in favor of talking to Papa by yourself.”  
The other illusion closed the eyes and convolved into a perfect circle; ignoring the girl obviously. Cecilia was visibly displeased by that action, yet quickly turned her attention back to Midgardsormr. “I know he's awfully rude, but when he has a point, then it's undeniable...” ,she began cautiously, “You shouldn't let your friends go alone... They need you.”  
The mirage held him with the strongest pressure she was capable of; making a sad face that could easily shatter his heart. Midgardsormr tried to resist her, but when both inhabitants of his dreams wanted him to stick with the mortals, he couldn't ignore his subconsciousness' wishes forever.  
“Very well... I stay...” he sighed resigned and embraced the little girl.

Standing behind the others, 'Midge' listened to the horn's tune.  
He was still not positive about the rightness of his naivety's stubborn attempt...  
However, his draconic fabrication was right. Accompanying the humans just for turning one's back on them at the very last step would condemn the whole journey as a complete waste of time. Therefore, the disguised antiquity restrained his agitated flight-instinct and clenched the fists reflexive as a warning for himself.  
With poignant eyes, Midgardsormr watched how his child soared down; surrounded by a squall that soon framed the temple. The mortals were for a moment distracted by the weather's abrupt change, yet their gazes were quickly glued to the Great Wyrm. Well... Of course the Methuselah couldn't blame them... If Vidofnir was a radiant beauty for the measures of dragon-kind, then her father was a gorgeous angel. One, that even humans could recognize as a charming existence... Unfortunately, this being which flattered one's sight found vice versa no joy in beholding mankind anymore.  
Hraesvelgr beheld the trespassers with clear displeasure while he hovered in the air.  
Amongst that silent study, his single eye fleetingly wandered over Midgardsormr, but saw luckily nothing special within the 'Hyur'. That coincidence calmed 'Midge' unmistakably, albeit he still refused to neglect his inner guard in any aspect. Who knew, how the following conversation might look like, when Erik's future differed from this world in case of two present persons... Both he and the maiden hadn't been part of this event before.  
As he landed in front of them, Midgardsormr's child spoke to them in groggily manner: “Mortals... Why dost thou disturb my tranquility?” Then, Hraesvelgr gave a cautionary roar – a sound nobody who knew dragons good enough would truly fear, since it lacked true decisiveness. Though the boy couldn't be described as an adept with mentioned knowledge, Alphinaud was nevertheless not paying to the threat. Mesmerized by the dragon's beauty, he vocalized his name in awe.  
“This is my name. The appellation of a creature who seeks only for oblivion. Let me be...”  
Hearing once more Hraesvelgr's voice in his mind – understanding the Dravanian words without ever having learned the language – irritated the teenager this time. Meanwhile, the other humans seemed not to be very surprised by that novelty. Erik and Ysayle were of course not astonished, since they knew the Great Wyrm, and for the Azure Knight as well as the other Warriors might this occurring be nothing more than a trivial fact. However, Midgardsormr, on the contrary, was by something else truly surprised...  
When he looked at Cecilia, the Methuselah noticed some kind of boredom in her irises.  
As if it was her daily routine to be exposed to this kind of telepathy...  
Lady Iceheart stepped forward. Hraesvelgr's rejection close to giving in to the impulse of leaving was to her as obvious as to 'Midge', so that she said with a serious pitch: “Have you already forgotten me? I'm the one who saw thanks to you the truth about the Dragonsong War. I have seen, what happened in the past – which connection between men and dragons your beloved Shiva tried to create!” Hereupon, the Great Wyrm gave an angry roar. “Thou art not allowed to utter her name, brazen one!”  
While even Erik and Estinien appeared appalled, Cecilia put the left hand onto her hip and scrutinized the dragon with a sharp gaze – in a manner Midgardsormr had never witnessed before. She didn't seem afraid by the sudden outburst...  
Ysayle's face became gloomily “But I summoned Shiva's soul and united my body with her ghost! She revealed her feelings to me!” Hraesvelgr bared his fangs: “Fool! Art thou truly convinced, that the spirit of my truelove descended from heaven? Art thou so arrogant to think, that thou know her innermost secrets?” Making one small step backwards, the Elezen protested: “I dedicated myself to her legacy! I am a reincarnation of her will!”  
The Great Wyrm calmed a little down; gazing at her with a relenting expression.  
“Misguided child. The light might have allowed thee to take a glance at the past, but thou hast not seen everything. Thou hast summoned an illusion; born of thy own hopes. Believe me. Long ago, we, too, fell for the lies of the messengers of darkness. We wanted to resurrect a king of our kind, but the god we summoned resembled us only externally. Deities will not be summoned – they will be created. They are constructions of errant believes and hopes.” Ysayle appeared like a puny version of herself when she asked: “Then the goddess who answered my plea was...?” “A phantasm, indeed. Thy Shiva is a mirage and nothing more.”  
“Are we finally done with mocking her?” ,Cecilia suddenly snapped and stepped protective to Ysayle's side, “Everybody has understood, that she summoned just a Primal – there's no need to rub extra salt into her open wound! I for one was never convinced of her Shiva being the real deal, but I didn't need to hurt her feelings with that knowledge! Does it give you any kind of satisfaction to crush the hopes of a woman who tries to make things right?!”  
Hraesvelgr studied the maiden with raised brows – Midgardsormr did the same in bafflement. Didn't Cecilia know, that she accused a being who was still dangerous enough to take her life within the blink of an eye? Or... was she willingly challenging the hazard to awaken the wrath which slumbered beneath his son's depression...?  
Alphinaud used the chance to get some diplomacy into the matter: “Great Hraesvelgr, your words might be true. But Ysayle's heartfelt wish to re-establish peace between our races is still no illusion! We all must prevent the final slugfest of a cruel and meaningless war! Please, lend us your power and bring your relatives to terms!” Listening to him, Erik sighed muted – only audible for 'Midge'. And the Primogenitor knew instantly, why the gruff Marauder did so... This man didn't have hope. Since Erik was aware of the encounter's outcome, he had already heard of the reason for Hraesvelgr's despair. Even if the alternate Midgardsormr wouldn't have told the Marauder the story of humankind's betrayal, the formerly bright person had learned it from Shiva's dragon. Thus...  
The Warrior was only here for the preservation of time itself.  
Hraesvelgr let an empty, derisive smile glide over his snout when he had reflected on the boy's plea. “Making peace with those who are consumed by greed and treachery? Thou art demanding something daring.” “Is that so? Well, as much as I could follow you, there's more about the past than Ysayle knows. Maybe you could enlighten us instead of beating around the bush like an ordinary dog would do.” Cecilia commented and folded her arms; odd-colored irises glancing advertent at the Great Wyrm. Obviously she didn't like it, that he preached down on her friends...  
Her impudence seemed to nettle him, yet Hraesvelgr spread his wings in pacific manner.  
“If this is thy wish. Listen to the truth! And then consider if thou truly deserve peace.”

Midgardsormr's son told them at first about Shiva.  
Told them, how her sacrifice established one-thousand-and-two-hundred years ago the era of harmony plus cooperation between dragons and mortals. Then, he spoke of the day when the Elezen got to know the energy-source of all all dragons – their eyes. Once mentioned men knew about it, only two-hundred years lasted before the lust for power of a single individual destroyed something what could have lasted forever.  
King Thordan and his knights lured Hraesvelgr's sister Taratoskr into a trap – they killed her and consumed the dragoness' eyes. The mortals gained preternatural powers through this betrayal. Nidhogg had been the first to find out what had happened, whereupon he attacked the Elezen. Hraesvelgr's brother killed the King and a handful of his entourage, but lost the source of his power within the battle; being forced to retreat.  
The Great Wyrm ended his explanation with the following words: “This is the truth, which the curia conceals! This is the reason for the Dragonsong War! Even in one-thousand and ten-thousand years, we will still painfully remember the perfidiousness – even, if Ishgard does then no longer exist.”  
Everybody but Erik, Cecilia and Estinien were shocked to hear these words. The Azure Dragoon, however, wasn't impressed by the report: “And we shall believe this, dragon? Your tale is the exact opposite of everything Ishgard's children learn from the very day they are born.”  
Hraesvelgr grinned: “It is meaningless which belief thou hast. The betrayal we dragons had to endure cannot be changed by that. Every hour we spend awake, we are reminded of the treachery. Nidhogg wants to make Thordan's people suffer for their sin – forever. His main-goal is not destruction but punishment – the annihilation of thy spirits. He wants thee to succumb to his will and bow to him. Either all of thee art of our blood or hast all died by thy own hands. He himself kills only mortals in order to strengthen thy despair.”  
Alphinaud made a bitter face: “So this is his true intention!” Simultaneous, Cecilia closed her eyes and let her arms droop. She added to the boy's insight: “Nidhogg puts pressure onto our shoulders just because he hopes that we ultimately destroy each other. That is, of course, if we're not giving in to the temptation of a shift of allegiances... Sneaky, very sneaky of him... A method I wouldn't use. A method I never have used. No pain in my heart has ever driven me that far.”  
Everybody gazed at her as if she had uttered something deranged, but once her lids opened and revealed her serious expression, nobody risked to question her words. Therefore, she came up with a direct query: “I presume Ratatosk's power is the key to turn people into dragons? After all, we saw with our own eyes at Snowcloak, how humans changed forms just by drinking something that must have been draconic blood.” “And don't forget the false Inquisitor we faced then in Central Coarthas. He also took the shape of a dragon.” Bertam reminded his companions and stepped to Cecilia's side, just as if the Roegadyn wanted to silently warn Hraesvelgr to not even think about attacking her.  
The dragon just smiled amused by the Paladin's precaution. “Yes, thou art correct to suspect my sister's force. All descendants of those traitors who survived Nidhogg's attack bear a part of Ratatoskr within themselves. And every mortal who willingly turns their back on the curia will be rewarded with a sip of dragon-blood, which is enough to change them.”  
“So we truly carry the seed within ourselves...” Ysayle noticed and looked somberly at the ground. “Correct. Those who taste the blood will join Nidhogg's horde. Whether through death or desertion, my brother will take one by one. Until none of thee remains.” the drake endorsed. Shivering, Alphinaud mumbled: “Twelve, be good... Perhaps we have fought several times against our own flesh and blood without even knowing it. If I consider, that every inhabitant of Ishgard – no matter the personal believes – has the possibility to do so...!”  
As if he tried to comfort the mortals, Hraesvelgr stated: “Of course there will always be those who fight until the bitter end. Such as thee, Dragoon.” Estinien, who had so far looked at the teenager, glanced sideways at the Great Wyrm. Mentioned being continued: “But no matter how much thou resist – at the latest, after one-hundred summers death will find thee. Nidhogg, on the other hand, will still be there to maltreat thy descendants.”  
Clicking his tongue, the Azure Knight stated: “I was already wondering, why Nidhogg didn't simply raze Ishgard to the ground. This should be a simple task for him. But now I comprehend it finally. He does not want to win the war itself. He rather wants to satisfy his quenchless thirst for revenge. An eternal elegy for his sister's cruel death.” “Exactly, Dragoon. Art thou now able to realize the pointlessness of thy undertaking?” Hraesvelgr asked – seemingly hoping for the mortals to give up. But of all things, Ysayle – though the Great Wyrm had crushed her believes – didn't stop struggling: “Even as we carry the guilt of our ancestors, we can still ask for forgiveness. If we return his eye, maybe Nidhogg can forgive us!”  
“Unreasonable one! Thou thinkest with the limited horizon of a mortal. Our concept of time is fundamentally different. It is easy for thee to show remorse. Thou hast not betrayed us. Thou cannot understand the weight of thy ancestors' misdeeds. For a dragon such as Nidhogg is the past still part of his present. He still sees how blood flows unstoppable from Ratatoskr's wounds. Sees her death. How could he not be wrathful?”  
Cecilia stamped her left foot impatiently – Midgardsormr felt like having a déjàvu.  
Should the maiden have a similar outburst to the one she had back then in Western Coerthas, 'Midge' didn't know if that would end well... After all, even his subconsciousness had warned him, that her nature could easily provoke his son...  
“Fine that you all are aware of the situation! Would you then have the kindliness to tell me, why you treat Ishgard's inhabitants as if they were in charge of the war? I'd really like to know that!”  
Erik gave a slight grin. His personal sister's hidden temper was clearly something he was aware of; plus something he enjoyed with every fiber. In the same instant, Hraesvelgr quickly bared his fangs – not as a threat, but rather as a warning to not overdo her insult. Nevertheless, a fierce grin flitted over his snout: “Thou dare to challenge a dragon's patience? Perhaps thou should not stay in the Churning Mists if it is thy wish to avoid my brother. At least I can promise, that – should Nidhogg find thee – it might be an easy decision for him to end thy life.”  
“That's his decision, I guess.” ,the maiden answered with a devilish smirk, “However, it's odd that you're too resigned for supporting your brother's evil master-plan. What's your desertion's excuse?” Gently, the Great Wyrm nodded: “I for one didn't become insane through the lust for vengeance... just because the calming embrace of Shiva's soul protected me.”  
Hraesvelgr stared confused at Cecilia when a soft, beautiful smile spread over her mien.  
Midgardsormr immediately got mesmerized by the view – even more by her voice as smooth as warm honey: “You disdain us humans so much, but this one woman you do still love with your whole heart. Even after so many years have passed by. She must have been your greatest treasure – I can feel that. … I'm sorry you couldn't spend more time with your truelove. I really am.”  
Cecilia's smile became sad as if she spoke about an own, aching memory, and the way her eyes looked at the white dragon, she definitely caught him off-guard with her pure compassion. Hraesvelgr's following words were harsh, yet his voice lacked determination when he finally said: “Let us no longer speak of the past. My belief into beings of thy kind ran dry. Farewell.”  
When his child flew away, Midgardsormr felt like a coward.  
He hadn't dared to utter a single word... Not even the protest against Hraesvelgr's narrow-minded worldview, that had started to boil in 'Midge's' chest, could leave the vessel's mouth. Of course risking nothing was for logic's sake better... To keep the knowledge a secret, that the Primogenitor was imprisoned in a humane shell... His poor child embraced by desperation should never learn of the awkward fate which had befallen the presumably dead drake... But...!  
Even if the Methuselah didn't know, how worthy humankind in general was, at least he was certain how much these adventurers here deserved more than the harsh opinion his still gentlest son had. Albeit it wasn't Midgardsormr's right to join the side of mortals, a part of him still had wished to defend these dear ones in front of his sour child.  
A part of him... wanted to interfere.

The antiquity got distracted when Cecilia caught his attention.  
Her mood fell drastically down – he could sense it. The sentiment seemed to be carried over by their connection, since an ill feeling which didn't originate from his own discouragement hit him like a sledge-hammer. Of course Ysayle's hardly contained dismay wasn't unnoticed by him, but he neither felt it within his corpus nor cared much for the Elezen's emotions. He had known, how false her version of Shiva had been... Having pity for that wasn't a strength his antique mind possessed. For his maiden, on the other hand... He experienced a wave of compassion. She touched his heart; more deeply than anything else.  
Especially, since she hadn't backed down from simply being herself...  
Cecilia had shown his son the same odd, yet adorable openness which 'Midge' witnessed since their very first meeting. Even though the Raen didn't bore her anger down about the childishness she saw within the rage of dragons, in the end his maiden had given Hraesvelgr the pureness her whole heart was capable of. The sweetness; the compassion...  
But... As long as it was solely for the mortals' original goal, their journey had been meaningless. She had this single thought on her mind; Midgardsormr felt, that Cecilia blamed herself for being unable to alter Hraesvelgr's opinion. As if his own body would be afflicted, he sensed how a kind of frost and hopelessness blossomed inside of her very heart which contradicted her usual nature a lot. It hurt to focus on this gloom... This darkness which threatened to consume her...  
Unsure, if that was the correct thing to do, 'Midge' approached the Au Ra and reached out for her right hand. Softly gripped it. Oh... Not even her eyes gave him any reaction; they kept their position pinned to the ground... She was not only cursorily depressed – it was rather as if somebody had ripped her entire emotions out. Even her body's temperature lost its usual warmth in lieu of a cold that he found alarming.  
While the Methuselah was busy with solicitously scrutinizing his maiden, he only marginally listened to the talk of the other mortals.  
“How are we now supposed to stop Nidhogg?” the teenager asked with a serious, meditative voice. Estinien inhaled before he stated decided: “The answer is simple... We must kill him. There is no other way.” “You cannot be serious?!” ,Ysayle yelled disgusted, “We didn't come here in order to attack Nidhogg!” The Azure Knight snorted: “Why do you still have objections? I kept my word and supported the pointless search for Hraesvelgr. With your dream of a peaceful solution being now destroyed, there's only one way left to end this conflict, Iceheart. And that path goes right over Nidhogg's corpse.”  
The female Elezen grumbled: “You heard right before, what we have done to the dragons, but still you want to continue the futile war?” “Right the contrary, sweetheart. I will stab the heart of war. Once Nidhogg is dead, the flames of slaughter will extinguish.” In order to emphasize his words, the Dragoon clenched his outstretched fist.  
Carlos shook his head in disbelieve. The normally calm Blackmage yelled: “Are you serious?! Nobody knows more about Nidhogg's tremendous powers than you! Especially you should know, that only a handful of people can't face a Great Wyrm unprepared!” Tammy immediately agreed: “Yeah, that sounds absurd! Not even behind Ishgard's stonewalls – not even together with all knights, Machinists and magicians of the Holy City, it would be an facile task to win this battle! How should we fight Nidhogg then in his own territory?!”  
Both elves as well as the Miqo'te stared at Estinien as if he had gone mad.  
However, the Dragoon was self-confident and exhibited the Eye. “We have an advantage. That thing should keep Nidhogg's power in check. Above all... This Azure Knight is not alone. If we all fight side by side, nobody can underestimate us. Or are you afraid of facing Nidhogg, Cec?”  
Midgardsormr was puzzled, how the simple mentioning of her name instantly made the maiden regain her usual life-signs. Or rather... how the way Estinien addressed her in a provoking manner made the Au Ra come back to senses.  
She looked at her friend with angry crystal and jewel. “You know the answer already. I stay by your side no matter what, even while I hate to watch all of your actions. But I am not going to let you kill Nidhogg without at least trying to discuss with him.” Her voice was caustic; didn't let any doubt about her determination. The cynical Elezen smiled – purest relief hidden underneath the helmet. He had also been worried, if the maiden wouldn't recover from their failure...  
“Good. Then, let us search for his lair. Shouldn't be too hard to find it, since I can tell how his anger about Tioman's loss makes him so angry that even you should be able to sense it.” the Azure Knight suggested. Well, despite his mortal vessel, Midgardsormr at least could indeed feel a storm of wrath – emerging not too far away from them. He didn't know, how sensitive the Warriors and the other two might be, but with their stoic companion going ahead, that might be no problem...  
When they left Zenith, 'Midge' wanted to let go of Cecilia's hand.  
But she didn't allow him to stick to politeness. “I'm sorry for worrying you...” ,she whispered and squeezed his fingers tightly, “Your son was just ironically too much of a hopeless case for me... There's nothing I could do in order to change his mind... So, I shouldn't have given in to despair. Ishgard isn't lost; not yet.” Returning the affectionate gesture, the father of dragon-kind murmured: “Nobody blames you for suffering under Hraesvelgr's decision. I am only glad... that you're okay... Nothing else matters to me...”  
Part of him wanted to know, what she had meant before... Why Cecilia stated, that she wouldn't have ever used Nidhogg's method. And to which kind of pain had her words been referring to...?Yet... There were apparently so many things he didn't know about her... So for what should he care for these small details, when there was still a whole field left for him to see one day...  
Holding the maiden's hand firmly, he walked with her right behind their companions.  
As the group traveled along the previously unexplored, cragged part of the Churning Mists, Alphinaud muttered: “The land's history becomes with every second even more bloody. Do we really have to cause death in return for death?” “I fear that's natural. The blood of my enemies will besmirch my armor a few more times before the conflict comes to an end.” the Dragoon replied while he led the group Northeast.  
Ysayle muttered lost in thoughts: “Everything I believed in--- worthless... No lie in this world could be any more convincing than one coming from the own mouth...” “Don't blame yourself too much.” ,Cecilia said and knocked gently onto Lady Iceheart's shoulder with her free hand, “Your intentions were good even though your strategies weren't the best. With you being the leader of the heretics, there's still hope left.”  
Midgardsormr noticed how Estinien exhaled sharply, but was surprised when the Elezen still bore his surely toxic comment down. Did he want to go easy on Cecilia...?  
A little march later, they found Nidhogg's nest – the Aery. It was right in front of them, but floated out of reach in the air; surrounded by ominous, tempestuous winds. “I can feel Nidhogg's presence thanks to the Eye – his boiling hatred jabs into all fibers of my body. He must have been alarmed by our victory over his partner, when he shields his bastion with such drastic measures. I wonder how to reach the lair...”  
Annika and Alphinaud gazed knowingly at each other and nodded. “We saw something similar. Garuda had created back them a barrier which kept everybody at distance.” the Whitemage-Lalafell declared. The scholar added: “Yes, until we found a way to break through her storm. If anybody knows how to reach the Aery, then it is Cid. We should ask him for help.”  
“Could that really work?” Estinien wanted to know and turned to Erik. The Warrior's leader grinned devilish when he replied: “Is Cid a genius...? Of course it will work. Let's go back to Coerthas and see what he can do for us. Or has anybody a better idea?” Since the others agreed to his suggestion, their boss prepared a group-teleport.  
“You truly want to face Nidhogg...?” Midgardsormr asked his maiden muted. Cecilia smiled with gloomily eyes before she answered: “I have to. There's no other option left. I could never abandon my friends or Ishgard's innocent inhabitants.” Ah yes... That was what he had predicted... But still... If she just wouldn't be obedient towards her strong sense of justice... If she just... could stay alive...  
Sighing, the old dragon held her hand tightly when Erik's teleport took them away.


	16. Chapter 16

# Chapter Sixteen

Erik's destination hadn't been Ishgard.  
His suggestion to travel to Coerthas possessed a verbatim meaning.  
Though, the western area was of course a good choice to go separate ways considering of Ysayle. Heretics shouldn't appear in the midst of Ishgard – at the most not the fraction's leader. Who knew, which cruel actions the Inquisitors would undertake should they catch her...  
The Marauder's intention matched Lady Iceheart's responsibility towards her followers.  
She had anyways wanted to contact her closest comrades. Furthermore, with the determination for restoring peace, which the adventurers as well as Alphinaud had demonstrated, Ysayle was eager to introduce them as trusted allies to the other heretics. In case of Estinien, however, she wasn't willing to entirely canonize him. He was truly no saint, thus the Azure Knight would always stay a risk for all pacifists. A risk she tolerated, though. After all, it was also thanks to him, that she would be able to spread the knowledge Hraesvelgr had shared with the troop. The Dragoon had helped to reach not only the Churning Mists but also Zenith – a fact Tioman's death didn't change.  
Before Lady Iceheart could say goodbye for now, a sudden call per linkshell interrupted her.  
According to a good friend, several heretics had decided to cause chaos in Ishgard. With their leader being absent, mentioned hotheads wanted to put pressure onto the Holy City with a serious attack. Could they demonstrate the curia's helplessness – so they thought – less townsmen would resist to side with the dragons.  
Ysayle was indignant to hear of such violent behavior; especially since she had ordered to lay not a single finger on Ishgard while her travel with the adventurers would last. Originally, the elf was convinced of her instruction being just a exaggerated precaution, but obviously more of these safety-measures would have been necessary. After all, not all fellows regretted the day when Vishap's commando had destroyed a part of the Foundation...  
The Elezen immediately changed her plans and asked the group for going together to the Holy City. Of course they approved her wish, whereby the Warrior's leader prepared once more a teleport for them all.  
Back in Ishgard, the sound of crossing blades was already audible.  
When they rushed to the nearby battlefield, Haurchefant fought together with other knights against Ysayle's birds-of-a-feather. The confrontation appeared already pretty serious, hence Lady Iceheart sprinted without reflecting on disadvantages between the two fronts; accusing the other heretics of flouting her order. Like a mother would, the Elezen acted as an arbiter; preaching forgiveness and putting the fault equally onto everybody's shoulders. No matter if curia or heretics: All of them carried a part of the complete guilt, so she would allow none of them to harm each other any further. For the sake of everyone's future, they had to stop the pointless circle of hatred.  
Her courageous action stopped the clash entirely. That was possible, since one side was irritated by the enemy's behavior, while the other tried to comprehend the total change of mind their leader had. Ysayle used this chance to give her fraction a strict directive – leaving the Holy City and instantly stopping all violent undertakings. The Fortemps-son wanted to prevent his enemies' escape, but was interrupted by Cecilia and Erik. They ran to him; confirming the reliability Ysayle's words had, whereupon the good knight unwillingly commanded his fellow-swordsmen to allow the getaway. Above all, he did not even instruct somebody to pursue the heretics.  
Despite his blind faith in the adventurers, however, Haurchefant was of course not contented.  
The Elezen demanded an explanation for this unfinished assault. After all, as the person in charge, he needed to write a report about this occurrence. And within mentioned text, a reason for letting Ishgard's adversaries flee was indispensable. Hereupon, the Warriors of Light as well as Alphinaud gave him a rough summary of the time they had spent with the heretic's leader; including a few short comments coming from the stoic Azure Knight. These words more than enough knowledge to convince Haurchefant of Ysayle's honesty. With that, he allowed his gentle personality to replace the harsh mask of professionalism.

Indeed, the Elezen was visibly delighted, that his dear friends had returned safe and sound.  
Although Tioman's death plus Hraesvelgr's repulsion visibly concerned him a lot, it couldn't be denied how relieved the good knight was to be able to hug his friends once again. In the truest sense of the word, because this activity was exactly what he did. Even Estinien had to endure an embrace, although the expression under his helmet indicated a mixture of disgust and resignation.  
When even 'Midge' ended up in a tight sign of friendship, simultaneous Haurchefant casually asked: “So, what's your next step? Not that I'd plan to write this information down as well, but curiosity kills me if I stay nescient.” “Hehe, I didn't know you were a cat.” Tammy giggled amused; earning an embarrassed smirk of the Elezen. “Well, looks like we need Cid's help.” ,Erik stated relaxed while Midgardsormr slipped out of the choking hug, “No chance we grow wings on our own in the next century, so machines have to take over that part. Not to forget that nasty wind-barrier...” Alphinaud tapped meditative against his chin and objected: “But before we seek for some advice... Shouldn't we report back to Aymeric? He has to be aware of the current situation.”  
“That could be a little bit troublesome.” ,the Fortemps-knight declared, “The Lord Commander has right now an important meeting to attend to. I doubt he would have a few minutes to spare for anything else but a burning city.” Following, Estinien shrugged unperturbed. “Typical... He cares way too much for politics. I wouldn't be surprised if he starves one day because of that habit... Hmpf, can't be helped. Under these circumstances, I'll go with you to the engineer.”  
This idea was a bit unusual... And obviously, the disguised dragon wasn't the only one to think so. “Won't you be bored without your companion?” the Blackmage-Elezen asked putative unenthused; turning the confusion into a slight joke. Glaring at his grand-cousin, the Azure Knight responded sarcastic: “Of course, since everything is less boring than finding a way to defeat my arch-enemy. Listening to political monologues is the most entertaining thing I can dream of.”  
Haurchefant barely hid the emerging amusement while he suggested: “Okay, guys, how about this... I tell Aymeric everything you have shared with me once his meeting is over? This would at least save a little bit of your time.” The knight's hand amicably landed on the disguised dragon's shoulder – a sympathetic smile meant for the 'Hyur' shone from the Elezen's mien. Such shame, that this man with a golden heart and Cecilia with an equally nature were no couple... For their personal freedom, the antiquity would never allow the slightest jealousy in his chest...  
Shaking the atrabilious thoughts off, 'Midge' nodded intuitive: “We would appreciate thy support, yes. Thou art a true friend.” “Just make sure, that you take care of your own duties at first, okay?” the maiden added grinning. As a response to her words, the Fortemps-son chuckled with tenderness: “Of course, don't worry. I'm a dutiful swordsman. And it makes me happy help you out.”  
With 'Midge', Alphinaud and Estinien in tow, the Warriors marched to the Machinist-Guild.  
Fortunately, Cid was right now present – taking a break from his work in Abalathia. The engineer stood outside of the building; drinking a hot chocolate when they approached him. After welcoming his friends, he attentively listened to their detailed report. Let the young scholar give him a detailed description of the enemy's hideout.  
“A wind-barrier, hm?” ,the bearded man mumbled thoughtful, “Of course, Alphinaud, the Enterprise should suffice to let us pass it, but I fear she wouldn't match the other requirements. She's too large and wouldn't be able to dodge a fast dragon in the air. In order to reach such a lair, we would need something else. … Come, let me show you something.”  
Cid's wolfish mien tried to conceal a decent grin when he walked ahead.  
Glancing at Erik, Midgardsormr concluded – thanks to the Marauder's sparkling eyes – the engineer's solution must be something outstanding. Hence, the Methuselah became curious to see it. Following their comrade together with the others, he raised his brows when an interesting machine caught his attention. The object looked like an airship, but was unusual small and had a much sharper design. In consideration of aerodynamic, this vehicle reached probably paramount speed... There was also almost no wood visible, but lots of shimmering white metal, which might endure several weather-conditions in a different way than the standard means of transport. In other words, this construct could be what they needed to reach the Aery.  
While Midgardsormr's eyes examined the little airship with embarrassing nosiness, Cid's assistants Biggs and Wedge climbed over mentioned machine; their busy motions revealed strong pride considering their creation. Everybody watched their work – even Erik demonstrated rapture, albeit he knew this event already.  
Chuckling about their reaction, Cid explained: “This small masterpiece named Manacutter is based on the same principle, which we had back then used in order to turn Garuda's wind into an element that she wouldn't be able to control. Only difference is, that the ship converts aether into wind and uses its special sails to gain dynamic impulses. Actually, I envy Biggs and Wedge a little bit for their brilliant idea.”  
While the Lalafell reacted embarrassed about the praise, his Roegadyn-colleague noticed: “Boss, don't be overhasty. The energy's conversation-rate is not directly efficient. In order to gain height, the ship must be located in an area with intense wind-aether.” “Right. Otherwise, it will barely float above the ground.” ,Wedge added; having regained his engineer-dignity thanks to the error-talk, “We have to correct this disadvantage someday, but for now other things have more importance.”  
Cid sighed before he nodded. “Correct... Unfortunately, working for Ishgard didn't let us much time for our own little projects... We will give our best to complete a handful of these small ships in their current state for you, as they should suffice for your plans, but doing so will take a while.”  
Before the group could utter their gratitude, suddenly Tataru appeared in the guild's workshop.  
'Midge' couldn't help but cough when he saw, which kind of outfit his little comrade-in-suffering wore today... The Scion's secretary – never giving up on her dream to become a reliable Arcanist – had been working in the tavern since a longer while now, but the current ensemble she had chosen for that purpose was far more unreasonable than everything else before. A pink apron didn't match the gloomy atmosphere of the Foundation, yet Tataru wore it with confidence. Should she aim for proving to Ishgard, that Lalafell were a cute species, then she was doing well to reach this goal.  
Her amethyst-eyes widened in relief when she discovered the Warriors and their allies.  
“I am so glad to find you! I was contacted by Yugiri – she said, that you must come ASAP to the Rising Stones! There are some news that need to be shared! It's about the Sultana!”

This time, Annika offered a group-teleport since she had chosen Mor Dhona as her costless favorite the last time they had been there. Surprisingly, the direct travel was delayed for a short instant when Estinien decided to go with the group.  
Alphinaud protested against it, but the Azure Knight's excuse was waterproof. As long as both Haurchefant and Aymeric were busy with their own assignments, he couldn't be of any help, whereby it made more sense to stick with his adventurer-comrades. After all, Nidhogg's current wrath was directed towards those who had slayed his mate.  
Tataru, on the contrary, declared despite minimal dilatoriness to be more useful when she remained just as before as a contact-person in Ishgard. Her eager practices hadn't payed off; she still couldn't control her carbuncle, thus the Lalafell didn't want to become ballast for her friends.  
When Annika finally initialized the teleport, 'Midge' couldn't help but smirk about Tataru's sulking to have not yet won their personal bet.  
Once the group reached their destination, not only Urianger as the true last Scion awaited them. Next to Yugiri and of course Raubahn, his adoptive-son Pipin as well as Papashan were present. Actually, both Lalafell had been the ones who asked the Raen-Ninja for help.  
Right before calling her, they were stumbled – together with the Syndicate's member Dewlala – over a true hint, that Nanamo might still be alive. Apparently, Lolorito ordered in regular periods from an academy specific supplements which were used to keep unconscious patients alive. Medicine such as the stuff Ishgard's doctors were deploying when Cecilia had been comatose.  
Hearing that, 'Midge' shared the impulsive reaction of the troop's majority: Widened eyes and slightly opened lips. This was too suspicious as if it could be a mere coincidence.  
While the Lalafell-team had stumbled upon mentioned clue, Yugiri discovered something as well.  
Because the Sultana was most probably poisoned, the female Ninja had been searching for the possible assassin – Nanamo's servant Meriel – and found today in earliest morning the place where that Hyur-woman concealed herself. The quiet Silver Bazaar in Western Thanalan turned out to be her hideout; a place not of interest for Ul'dah's popular inhabitants plus neglectful-controlled by Lolorito's mercenaries. Yugiri wouldn't have minded to immediately approach Meriel, but Raubahn as the only other volunteer had just a single arm for possible combats left, whereby the situation could nevertheless become too risky if anything should go wrong. Thus, the support of the Warriors would be welcome.  
Of course mentioned adventurers agreed instantly to help – Alphinaud and Estinien joined the troop, too – whereby Urianger used the chance to explain the strategy he had come up with. Tammy, Carlos and Annika should keep watch over Meriel's hideout from the rooftops, while Bertram and the Azure Dragoon would stay close to the small harbor in order to warn their comrades in case that any mercenaries showed up with a boat. Yugiri was supposed to guard the Bazaar's entry on land, while Alphinaud, Erik, Cecilia and 'Midge' had to accompany Raubahn for making sure that nothing could happen to him.  
The plan was in everybody's opinion acceptable, albeit the disguised Methuselah couldn't help but have in secret a bad feeling about this undertaking.  
Before they set off, however, the cloaked Elezen had one last thing to tell them. He assured the comrades, that Nanamo must be fine even while being probably poisoned. As a Dunesfolk-Lalafell, the Sultana possessed a strong immune-system due to consuming since childhood special teas, which made her tribe resistant to the toxins of snakes and scorpions. So in other words, as long as she was alive, her recovery was very likely.  
This statement lifted indeed the mortals' spirits, so that they departed with resolute faces.

An ordinary building as one's home.  
Simple clothes mirroring the way other inhabitants were dressed.  
No swanky perfume or makeup like Ul'dah's female residents wore.  
Midgardsormr wouldn't have believed, that this woman in front of them should be a royal attendant, if Raubahn himself hadn't been so sure of her identity. Since the father of dragon-kind wasn't paying attention to the servants around them – before the Crystal Braves used back then the opportunity to imprison Alphinaud – this Hyur here could be just as normal as everybody else at the Silver Bazaar. Yet, the way she anxiously avoided any eye-contact with Ala Mhigo's Bull was proof enough, that the one-armed man wasn't mistaken, so the 'Dragoon' didn't allow her to leave the house.  
With a stern expression, Raubahn demanded to hear the truth from Meriel, but got startled just like the others when Yugiri suddenly called per linkpearl. Lolorito had appeared in the small settlement; Dewlala right behind him. Both of them walked directly to Meriel's shelter.  
The gladiator growled in anger – expecting the female Lalafell to have betrayed them. Nevertheless, Raubahn didn't want to flee as long as no mercenaries would show up. He wished to learn, which kind of motivation the dangerous merchant had to seek for a meeting, hence the other mortals supported their friend's decision.  
Lolorito came nonchalantly to the little house; being clearly amused instead of nervous when the other adventurers as well as Yugiri and Estinien appeared behind him. Dewlala, on the other hand, didn't seem to trust the Azure Knight who stood threatening close to her. In secret, 'Midge' couldn't help but snicker malicious about the fact, how helpless this member of the Syndicate actually was. In this one point, he had to acknowledge the charisma of the other one, since the bearded Dunesfolk saved face while simultaneously not doing so via taking his mask off.  
Citrine-colored eyes sparkled in self-confidence when the Lalafell-Lord beheld the group.  
The smile that had been rather suspicious before appeared suddenly gentle once the expression of his irises revealed not the slightest sign of antipathy. For a moment, Midgardsormr allowed himself to relax, but quickly regained his inner strain since Raubahn's mien told him, that the merchant couldn't be trusted so early. If the gladiator's eyes had been capable of talking, they might have cursed Lolorito for all pain existing in the world. However, even while the Highlander was clearly irate to see him, the Lalafell willingly informed the group of the whole story behind the scenes.  
His city-state had avoided a catastrophe – just by a hair's breadth.  
As it was already common knowledge for the Warriors of Light, Lolorito's rival Teledji Adeledji had been trying to take possession of the Omega-Weapon. But Nanamo's wish to resign from her status in favor of granting Ul'dah's people the rights of diplomacy ruined his plans. She stood in his way to gather cheap employees for unearthing the machine as well as to gain control over said object, hence Teledji concluded, that only the Sultana's death would suffice to get rid of the future problems she was about to cause for him.  
While Lolorito summarized these things, Midgardsormr's mind spaced out.  
Once the weapon's name had been mentioned, for a moment his head was a black hole. Afterwards, the dragon-father flinched as he felt a wave of anger and hatred creeping up from the dark depths of his subconsciousness; ready to consume his awareness entirely.  
Of course he had known, that Omega was here... The machine's arrival on Hydaelyn hadn't occurred unnoticed by him. But... Implied object had been damaged – far more than the dragon himself was injured thanks to the long travel. With that, his survival-instinct had been locking every thought of the weapon in the deepest part of his mind – something it almost failed to do, when the Allagans caught back then the false recreation of his son Bahamut with the help of this still demolished thing. Yet, the Primogenitor tried to ignore his archenemy.  
In favor of not betraying the pact with Her grace, he usurpingly forgot...  
Fists clenched, Midgardsormr forced himself to continue listening to Lolorito.  
As much as the Lalafell-Lord was able to track down the scheduled steps of his rival, Teledji had the perfect replacement for Nanamo up his sleeve – a descendant of the house Thorne, who was due to her young age the perfect puppet for his plans. Above all, nobody could have been able to refute her demand of the crown, since she was a legitimate successor of the old Sultan-dynasty. Therefore, the merchant just needed to get rid of the current Sultana; without being too suspicious while presenting in the same moment some perfect offenders. And as all of them knew, his choice had been the Warriors of Light plus the Scions, since they were also nuisances in his chess-game.  
But fortunately, a short while before that day of the fateful festivity happened, Lolorito realized how much Teledji had gone out of control. So, he decided to turn the coup into his own and disempower his rival. However, the Lord didn't want to harm Nanamo. Naturally he wasn't willing to destabilize the government, in first place, yet held also no personal grudge against the Sultana. With that, Lolorito assigned Meriel to replace Teledji's poison with a strong sleep-inducing-drug.  
Ilberd had been informed about the plan.  
His provoking words towards Raubahn on that day were nothing else but a simple, yet efficient strategy meant to turn the gladiator's desperation about loosing Nanamo into a wrathful attack against Teledji. Although... Nobody, who was part of the complot, would even have dared to picture Raubahn killing the merchant in that outburst of rage.  
Hearing the Lalafell's report, Raubahn was indignant and furthermore accused Lolorito of corrupting the Crystal Braves. The Lord grinned – showing no concern, since he was the one who had financed Alphinaud's team at the most. This information confused the group, so Lolorito explained it for them once his dark chuckle ebbed away. Of course he had erred on the side of caution and covered the hints, but in the end the majority of donations for the Crystal Braves were made by him. However... In order to gain Ilberd's loyalty, it had been necessary to promise support for the rebellion in Ala Mhigo once everything in Ul'dah would be done.  
This pledge, though, never found fulfillment due to the way how everything developed after Raubahn's imprisonment. Lolorito became over the time disgusted by Ilberd's stubbornness which was close to insanity. Also, the Lalafell grew sick of the way how that man spoke ill of his former childhood-friend. Once madness made the Highlander even seek for Raubahn's death, Lolorito broke their agreement, but couldn't prevent Ilberd from trying to get rid of Ala Mhigo's Bull.  
Lolorito's citrine-eyes shone in delight when he thanked the adventurers for rescuing Raubahn. Their reaction was more than frostily, so the Lord assured them of the next step of his own plan. Since all preparations had been done, he wished to return everything to status quo. Meaning: To get the Sultana back on the throne and restore Raubahn's good reputation.  
The Dunesfolk sought seemingly truthful for a recommencement, yet Midgardsormr wasn't surprised when Raubahn immediately negated the offer. In the Hyur's eyes, Lolorito was a traitor whose actions would never find any forgiveness under the Twelve's doctrine of morale and justice. For the gladiator, there was no possibility to condone the Lalafell's crime.  
Actually... This was an estimation... every dragon should be able to identity oneself with. At least the Primogenitor in his humane shell was not above feeling anger towards the cause for the disaster which struck back then in Ul'dah...  
Dewlala, who had been silent until now, interfered all of a sudden.  
She reminded Raubahn, that Teledji died through his hands instead of being convicted by a court. Loyalty towards the Sultana didn't whitewash all actions – and that included murder. This was a good reason to urge the man to accepting the deal, albeit 'Midge' didn't find relief in the moment when Raubahn gave unwillingly in.  
Afterwards, the Syndicate-member hinted at something while her gaze was pinned to her colleague. The Lord – understanding Dewlala's silent suggestion – shrugged and rakishly pressed a small bottle into the Bull's hands. It was the remedy which would wake Nanamo finally up. Furthermore, he offered to escort the group to the Sultana in case they didn't believe him, so that no palace-guard would be intimidating.  
The Warriors as well as Alphinaud, Estinien and Yugiri let Raubahn decide whether or not to trust the merchant. The gladiator nodded; begrudgingly noticing, that Lolorito had proven to be also loyal towards the throne. Raubahn's statement earned a smug grin, while these citrine-eyes revealed nevertheless their owner's happiness to be no longer treated like a villain.  
Once they reached Ul'dah, Raubahn wished to go alone to Nanamo. A plea they all respected.  
In the meantime, Lolorito and Dewlala encouraged the adventurers plus allies to wait together with them in the Syndicate's meeting-hall for Ala Mhigo's Bull. Because Cid had not yet called via linkpearl, it was an offer they all found acceptable, thus they accompanied both Lalafell. Surprisingly, two familiar faces welcomed them as they reached the chamber. Pipin and Papashan had been informed by one of Dewlala's servants about the complete background-knowledge, whereby they wanted to see firsthand the end-result of Teledji's misled complot.  
The gladiator arrived his comrades soon; a wide smile replaced at the moment his seriousness. According to the doctors, the freshly awoken Sultana wouldn't endure any permanent detriments, and though she would probably continue to seek for the nation's democracy once she could leave her bed, he would stay be her side no matter what might happen next.  
Midgardsormr was impressed by the man's unshakable loyalty.  
Causing no sound, he scrutinized Raubahn in admiration; grasping why Cecilia and the others had befriended this Highlander in first place. But he also felt sympathy for Nanamo – and not only, because his maiden was fond of the Sultana, to be honest. Actually, 'Midge' held the Lalafell's readiness to self-sacrifice in veneration, since this was the first time he heard of a mortal leader who wanted to give every luxury up in favor of giving a whole nation liberty.  
If just Ishgard's construction of lies wouldn't prevent similar good souls from giving their people a chance to control their lives freely... Glancing at a huffing Estinien, it was clear that the Elezen shared the Methuselah's train of thoughts.  
Meanwhile, Lolorito refuted the Sultana's wish.  
Surely Nanamo's dedication was admirable, but Ul'dah needed fair competition plus exertion just as its emblem proclaimed. Motivation as well as inspiration would run dry if the city changed its ways; ambition and dynamism doomed to vanish if no goal remained that one's dreams could center about. Also, with Garlemald preparing once again for warfare, it wasn't a good idea to try of all things now a different political course.  
Alphinaud presumed aloud, that Lolorito must know something they didn't.  
With a deadly serious mean, the Dunesfolk confirmed that theory; immediately willing to divulge his information to the group. His dependable spies had discovered, that the Garlean engineers constructed in the last time a new battleship for attacking Eorzea. One... with combat-strength akin to the prominent Agrius.  
Midgardsormr was close to airing his stomach when the knowledge had settled down in his brain. Another reminder of his physical death was not easy to endure, when his mental stability was already endangered due to reflecting on Omega... At the most not, because the mortals here were talking about the same type of flagship which was the reason for his original body being rendered entirely useless.  
'Midge' only marginally heard Pipin's question, how far the development had gone. And once Lolorito replied, that the maiden-flight had been successful, the disguised dragon lost for a moment to ability to hear due to his exaggerated heartbeat.

The streets were crowded.  
Normally, all these men would have made him nervous, but the bad condition in which his vessel currently was had nothing to do with the excited nation... No unsettling, populated event could have the same intensity as the horror his own mind was causing for him...  
Seeking shelter in a quiet alley, 'Midge' watched the jolly people on the street without blinking, while his back leaned against a wall. Part of him was resentful thanks to all relevant members of the group having forgotten, that Ul'dah celebrated today the so-called Little Lady's Day. Also known as Princess Festival, on this spring-day the whole city honored every year its young ladies and girls; treating them all like mistresses such as those women belonging to the royal family.  
The event had just begun – and since Cid was still not calling once the meeting with the Syndicate had been over, the adventurers decided to stay a few hours before returning to Ishgard. While Yugiri preferred going back to Mor Dhona, Alphinaud and Estinien didn't have much of a choice, thus they stayed just as the disguised dragon-father with their comrades. However, while the former two enjoyed the cheerful atmosphere more or less, the antiquity wasn't able to do so.  
Midgardsormr didn't feel well. Absolutely not well.  
Remembering his physical death in this moment had a strong impact on him.  
The way how the Agrius' explosion – strengthened by his energy-blast – burned back then every single fiber of his body was deeply rooted in his awareness. Just as the last memory of the crash into the lake; the storm of aether it caused to forcefully rip a huge seal made by Hydaelyn open was forever carved into his brain. Mentioned pictures in his head made the bare imagination almost unbearable, that now another ship existed which possessed such destructive power. Being reminded of Omega's presence on this planet completed the malaise which had befallen him.  
His arms shivered when he reflexively entangled the vessel's upper part of the body. Jaws clenched, the dragon-father wondered, what might happen should any keen mortal reactivate the machine before its self-repair would be completed... That thing was even in damaged form very dangerous – and in his current shell, Midgardsormr wouldn't be able to face his archenemy on a battlefield.  
He couldn't use aether in any offensive way; being able to teleport was the uppermost this corpus was capable of. Also, as far as 'Midge' knew the inhabitants of this world, there was no being with the power to stop Omega; at least not now. Hydaelyn's chosen children – especially the Warriors – might have the potential to become strong enough one day, yet, in the present these six persons weren't in any aspect greater threats for the alien-machine.  
'Tsk, alien... What right do I have to use that term...' he thought grimly smiling and lifted his right hand to the neck; nails digging into his vessel's flesh with decent pressure. As if he was any better than Omega... While his children hatched on this planet, their father was in the end just a foreigner who even allowed a dangerous weapon to follow him to their sanctuary alias new home.  
Actually, it was a miracle how openly the Mothercrystal welcomed the Primogenitor back then, though he had warned her about the likely catastrophe his presence on this star would bring to her. Hydaelyn's compassion didn't deserve the pain he as a failure-guardian had created...  
Squinting his eyes, the Methuselah was close to failing to endure his vessel's heartbeat.  
But obviously he wasn't allowed to fall apart, since suddenly a familiar voice boomed audible through the crowd; drowning many people out: “You could have told me, that you want a break! Seriously, don't repeat that one day in Ishgard – or else be prepared for getting A LOT of trouble!” Lids minimal raised, he watched when his maiden approached him; caring not at all for the humans she jostled against. It wasn't typical for her to act so reckless... He folded his arms – probably kind of self-protection-instinct his mortal cage possessed – and stoically replied: “I do not repeat it... There is no information I could find in this city which might be of use for me. And I doubt, that you could carry me in a shape like this back to wherever you want me to be.”  
Unwillingly, the disguised antiquity trembled when both crystal and jewel studied his neck.  
He had left scratches there, correct? There must be something visible... At least 'midge' was certain of that once her eyes gave him an accusing look. But Cecilia didn't go any further on this topic. Instead, she gripped his hands. Pulling against him. “Come with me. There's a little something which I bought for you. And I'd like to see if it suits you.” she said forthright; voice low and calm. Irritating the dragon. But he followed her order nonetheless.  
She led him to a guestroom in Ul'dah's tavern; something that didn't surprise 'Midge' who was meanwhile accustomed to general quirks of adventurers. However, there was in fact an unusualness that DID astonish him once he saw it.  
With widened eyes he stepped to the bed and allowed his curious fingers to wander over the piece of clothing which lay here. The design was clearly of eastern origin, but it was too short for a Kimono and did also not resemble an ordinary Yukata with its smooth fabric.  
“What is this?” ,he softly asked, “My knowledge considering mortal clothes has a limit; particularly when it's for the areas of Othard and Hingashi... I have never seen such a beautiful top before...” Obviously triggered by his naive wonderment, the young woman smiled noticeable: “It's a Suikan. They are exclusively sold for this Little Lady's Day. I was sure you would like it, so I got not only for myself one. By the way... I have dyed yours; that's why it is dark-green. Since you seem to like the color, I thought this gesture would be appropriate. … You can of course order another hue in case my choice was bad. I won't dictate you what to like and what not.”  
Mesmerized, the antiquity lifted the item into the air. “Do not worry... It is perfect...” he mumbled; distracted by the way how the fabric shimmered discreetly in the warming sunlight. “Okay then... Will you wear the Suikan today for me?” The way Cecilia's question sounded embarrassed him. Gaping at the archmage, the expression of her mien intensified his shyness, yet the dragon honestly wanted to return the favor. Therefore, he nodded wordless.  
“Good! Then, let me give you an appropriate pair of clogs alias Geta, as well as matching trousers.” Her unbridled enthusiasm was a little bit exhausting in his current condition. However, Midgardsormr pulled himself together in order to not disconcert her. She didn't need to know, which dark thoughts floated through his head... Draconic history would only ruin her pure happiness. So, with an unequivocally blush occupying his cheeks, the dragon put Cecilia's gifts on.  
She wasn't very polite while he switched clothes – her gaze was nonstop glued to his shape.  
But as the smooth fabric glided over his skin, he couldn't be mad at her. Also, there was something which additionally brightened his mood... “You have made the trousers...” the Methuselah noticed satisfied; recognizing a familiar scent solely coming from mentioned piece of clothing. “Yepp, because the merchants sell only tops and shoes, I figured you would need these to cover your legs. Not, that they would look awful... It's quite the opposite, actually. You have really a pretty vessel.” his maiden declared; letting 'Midge's' head turn cherry-red thanks to her praise.  
Though... the embarrassment became unbearable when she suddenly began to undress.  
“I-I suppose y-you want to wear your S-Suikan, t-too?” the dragon-father asked stuttering and looked nervously away. “That's the plan, aye.” ,his maiden responded – suddenly sounding earnest, “I want to spend one last moment in peace with you before we all travel to the Aery; to Nidhogg. Who knows how the confrontation will come to an end...”  
Impulsively staring at the Au Ra, the Primogenitor was surprised by her speed to change so quickly. For a second, he got sidetracked by the alluring view... Black was definitely a color meant to be worn by Cecilia; at least when it was accompanied by red and white accents. The rosy cherry-blossoms in her hair matched the pictures as well; just like the pink rose on her left wrist.  
To regard, what his son might do to this beauty, made Midgardsormr's stomach rebel.  
To know, that the girl was afraid of the dark wyrm, awakened his protective instincts.  
Making two big steps, 'Midge' tenderly gripped her hands once he stood right before the maiden. She gazed confused at him, but her eyes got a lovely expression when he slowly pulled her palms to his chest. He let her feel his heartbeat – a silent confirmation, that nervousness ultimately succumbed to inner peace once they were together like this.  
All remaining panic was suppressed for her sake when he mumbled: “You promised me something. And I believe in you... If you start thinking negative now, that would not match the courage which you have shown me before.” The plea to run away – to save her life was held down with all might; he didn't want to put that burden onto her shoulders, too. She had to decide without manipulations, which purpose and path this young existence of hers should have in the very end...  
Her resolute smile was worth the effort to keep himself in iron control.  
“I'll keep this promise I gave you. I won't let you alone, Midgard.”

He wasn't completely soothed by Cecilia's words, but still found comfort in her vow.  
When the two of them rejoined their comrades at the major-street, for a moment Midgardsormr was above all able to overcome – at least temporarily – the panic which Lolorito's report had caused. Plus... With these familiar faces around him, the crowd didn't frighten his instincts anymore. Somehow, he had truthfully grown accustomed to the role of... being simply one of the adventurers. Being a friend of the young scholar, the cynical Dragoon and the Lalafell-fellow-sufferer who had remained in Ishgard. A companion of the good knight as well as a buddy of that cheeky Astrologian who looked so much like his maiden.  
They were... part of his family. All of them. In the Holy City, he had begun to feel this way when their well-being concerned him more and more, but in the last days, the sentiment grew into an unchangeable certainty. Even Erik's rough jokes didn't annoy him anymore, since they started to please his own awful humor.  
Spending quality-time like a normal man with the Warriors of Light, Alphinaud and Estinien was... a valuable experience. One that eased his anxieties to the point where they vanished in his subconsciousness. Who would have guessed this... Eating snacks together, drinking exotic shakes, chatting about unimportant negligibilities and listening to pleasant music could even allow someone like this ancient, old-fashioned furuncle to enjoy a simple moment as if it was eternity...  
Come to think of music...  
He hadn't been aware of Cecilia's talent as a songstress.  
She might label it as just a mere hobby an amateur like her possessed, but even without this idea of professional knowledge, the Raen's sense for rhythm and tunes was astonishing. Her performance – solely meant for fun – with three young women, who wanted to become the successors of Ul'dah's popular Nightingale, reached a level where 'Midge' was perplexed by the maiden's preferences. How could she enjoy gathering and crafting more than this... god-given ability? After all...  
She could easily be a fourth member of this little idol-group. Her voice sounded... as if each tune had been made to strengthen the ones of the other three girls. Plus, the so-called Songbirds wore Suikans just as her; Cecilia matched them thanks to that even in visual aspects.  
As he beheld their unforced gig, a part of him--- his foolish credulity, actually...  
The last tiny bit of his innocence yearned for an everlasting time-stop. 'Midge' wanted to stay here, in this instant. Wanted to never leave it for the rest of his vessel's existence. For mortals, it might be a trivial event which would repeat every year with different details, but the dragon cherished this single day more than any other before he had spent in this humane shell. Of course the Methuselah didn't want to see, how Nidhogg would destroy the adventurers... Yet, the little bit of peace he had found in this altered life was so valuable, that Midgardsormr wanted to protect it.  
This sentiment was stronger than his fear of the confrontation.  
Listening to Cecilia's melodic voice plus the skilled chant of the Songbirds demonstrated above all, that he was not any different than the humans. They, too, were bewitched by the performance of these four songstresses. Some of the bystanders even cheered vociferous to express their happiness. It seemed, that the brightness of blissful maidens was infectious; so much, that some people uttered the wish to let this day never end. When a little Miqo'te-girl next to him voiced this irrational thought as well, Midgardsormr felt how much he had truthfully adapted to the mortal way of experiencing time. A realization which didn't unsettle him; not at all.  
Once the gig was done, he helped her with outreached hands to hopp down from the bandstand.  
Surely the archmage didn't need support, but the sweet way Cecilia answered his smile told him, that his girl appreciated the gesture. However, a sudden, mischievous smirk of hers alarmed 'Midge'. He tried to react immediately when she put her arms around his neck, but the maiden was too fast for him to keep up.  
Blushing, the disguised dragon was easily defeated by her embrace – practically doomed to death, so to speak, because she even dared to cling to him with her whole shape. Dared to put both legs around his hips... Holding him tightly; way too tightly. Intimate...  
The following chuckle of the other Warriors reached just insignificantly his ears. That was thanks to the blood in his veins, which pounded way too loud as if he could listen to anything else properly... But nevertheless, 'Midge' could see their rejoice in this awkward moment. Shyly stabilizing the hug, he wondered how her friends would react if they learned of the relationship here being nothing else than a falsehood... Even the reaction of Cecilia's personal brother made him curious. Although Erik pretended to be nescient, in the end he had been the one to establish the lie of his sister and 'Midge' being together. So... Would it... somehow made him sad to watch this fake-couple breaking up?  
The dragon's eyes happened to gaze at Alphinaud.  
Mentioned young Elezen beheld Cecilia and him with red cheeks. Well... The teenager's virginity was partly refreshing; partly annoying, since he was still one of her favorites... Had this elf only been a bit older and perhaps no scholar, there was a possibility that she might have asked him to be her boyfriend... Maybe the boy knew this; somewhere in the back of his head.  
Anyways, if Alphinaud could just gain several pieces of Estinien's relaxation or rather stoicism... Having to worry about a naive boy instead of his own, daunting impulses frustrated Midgardsormr. He shouldn't need to care for a child's problem with adult behavior... Not in this situation...  
While his maiden cuddled so confiding with him, he wondered, if she was willingly ignoring what their physical contact did to him... Since his mind was partly busy with reflecting on their comrades, it might not be visible for others due to missing breathing-difficulties, but... He couldn't sugarcoat it – like Cecilia would describe something veridical.  
His vessel WAS agitated. WAS aroused.  
She acted like a siren on 'Midge' – her singing before had played a huge part in this. And as Cecilia was so close to him, there was no way that she couldn't feel his sentiment... No way, that the girl couldn't feel the raising temperature of that humane shell... His subtle pounding...  
Did she tease him? Penalize him? Was it meaningless to her, that her bare warmth and scent drove this ancient dragon crazy to the point where he started to lose control? Or was this her actual plan; wanted this maiden to erase his morales in favor of seeing the dreadful creature beneath the facade? Feeling her hands caressing the vessel's neck, succumbing to the temptation seemed self-evident...  
The abrupt jingling of a linkpearl distracted him.  
Looking together with the relaxed maiden at Erik, mentioned Hyur reacted immediately to the call. Once Cid's name fell, however, the Raen raised her head which had been resting before on 'Midge's' right shoulder. She didn't need more hints in order to be aware of the same certainty which Midgardsormr had to accept now... Her embrace lost gradually its tightness until she unwillingly began to back away from him. The disguised dragon told himself twice, that it was better this way, yet his arms had their own mind. They kept Cecilia close despite her feet having already returned to the ground; squeezing the maiden for a moment in protective manner.  
Albeit he needed solace as well, deep down the antiquity sensed... how much this girl – who wished magnanimous for peace between humans and dragons – started to break under the future's emerging plus incontrovertible pressure. Her body's shivering ironically frightened the old dragon more than the promise his son had given to him...  
As long as Midgardsormr knew her, after all, Cecilia had never been so consumed by sheer fear such as she emitted in this very moment...  
Though she bravely smiled once he let go of her – having magically switched back to her usual Astrologian-attire with the snowy-owl-robe – the sensation of her anxiety didn't leave him alone. Like a thorn stinging into his most sensitive emotional state...

Making detailed reports on the events in the Churning Mists was tiresome.  
Aymeric's cyan-eyes beheld them with bitter skepticism, although he had been roughly informed by Haurchefant about the current situation. The Lord Commander appeared despite his smooth, slightly feminine face like a man made of stone while he listened to their words. As much as Midgardsormr was able to tell, the elf sitting in an uncomfortably big chair was quite angry with the adventurers for avoiding a meeting until now. After all, they probably might have continued the delay in case that the Fortemps-son hadn't called them in time – just when they returned to Ishgard...  
So, while Cid used these extra minutes for correcting some tiny errors, the Warriors of Light as well as Alphinaud and Estinien gave their best to milden the Lord Commander's frustration. Once every single occurrence – including the Moogle-tribe's retarding shenanigans – was passed to him, Aymeric let his anger turn into negligible displeasure.  
“When Haurchefant gave me prior to this a recap of your mission, I didn't know if I should be glad or disappointed by your choice to not disturb the meetings I was attending to... Allowing Ysayle alias Lady Iceheart to enter Ishgard was a risky undertaking; for her as well as for you. I understand, that you wanted to stop the heretics in the name of peace, but... If the wrong persons had been present, you all would be by now prisoners. I may trust your assessment of Ysayle's intentions – Estinien and Erik at the most, yet I cannot speak for every inhabitant of our Holy City.”  
The Azure Knight shook his head: “Tsk, as if any ordinary soldiers and knights could capture me. This boy here might be an easy victim, but with the Warriors by his side, it won't happen.” Alphinaud tried to protest, but Estinien wasn't done with talking. “Furthermore, the only thing which matters is Iceheart's willingness to stop our internal disputes. We shouldn't fight each other – humans shouldn't fight one another; that's her opinion now. She's more of a pacifist than a heretic. With the knowledge Hraesvelgr gave to us, I doubt we will have to fear any longer attacks of those who follow her, because she won't allow that.”  
Humming lost in thoughts, Aymeric leaned backwards and closed the lids for a short moment.  
“I still wish the Great Wyrm would have approved your request... His denial is understandable, though. Imagining, what our ancestors perhaps did to the dragon-race, is reason enough to pause even if one can't believe this story. I'm not saying, that I blindly accept this as an unassailable truth, but... There was always a part of me which couldn't grasp why these beings bore so much wrath against us, when the curia preaches of a causeless escalation.”  
“Stealing some territory was never a plausible reason – that's what you want to say.” ,Erik noticed – causing the Lord Commander to open his eyes, “Nidhogg's actions make so much more sense once we regard Hraesvelgr's explanations. Even Mister Lance here realized that.” “A mannerless axeman dares to give me a silly nickname?” the Azure Knight hissed and tapped against Erik's weapon. Rolling the eyes, Carlos commented: “Someone with a funny stick meant for the simple infantry shouldn't open his mouth like that. Or rather, you should better shut yours entirely and quickly return to spear-fishing.”  
As the two cousins began to argue now, Aymeric watched them for a moment in clear surprise. Then, a discreet chuckle left his throat. Trying to let no further sign of delight out, the Elezen stated: “If I may use the keyword Erik mentioned... Indeed, Nidhogg's motivation appears more plausible thanks to his brother's clarification. And I DO agree with Estinien's part of your report, that Tioman's death makes the dark wyrm cautious enough to not attack Ishgard in the near future. However... I DON'T like your plan to enter the Aery with only a handful of fighters. No matter how strong my admiration for Cid Garlond's work might be, I am still not able to endanger the lives of ANY comrades like this.”  
From the corners of his eyes, Midgardsormr noticed a painful expression slipping over Erik's mien. The face of a man who had seen an unspeakable catastrophe... Several seconds later, the Hyur's lids twitched uncontrolled, before he obviously smothered whatever kind of sentiment had tried to overwhelm him. For 'Midge', it was clear, that something terrible must have happened in the future of the Midlander's world. Something related to the leader of the temple-knights...  
Meanwhile, Estinien allowed his normally hidden enthusiasm a rare stroll: “Have a bit faith in us, Aymeric. With the Eye as well as the Warriors of Light – who are also famous for being god-slayers – it should be possible to defeat a Great Wyrm. You won't find a group more qualified than us.”  
The Lord gazed at him with serious eyes; studying the confident grin under that helmet in almost irate manner. But then, the chivalric elf stood up without warning – his mood bursting with immense determination. “I will follow your example.” ,he declared undaunted, “When strangers are willing to sacrifice themselves for Ishgard, then I as somebody who has sworn to protect Ishgard will not stay behind them. My rank has now no meaning to me. It is my duty to give everything for equally my comrades and homeland.”  
His old friend was clearly not convinced of that idea. Arms folded, the Azure Knight pointed out: “Fighting against 'pangolins' is the duty of us Dragoons. Killing them is my essential job, while you, on the other hand, can't be replaced when it's for guiding the nation. In worst case, even Midge as a beginner could defeat our foes in lieu of me, but none of us has the potential to lead Ishgard in a similar manner like you do. Stay where your own war rages, Aymeric.”  
Midgardsormr felt like a fist would have hit his stomach when Estinien pronounced so nonchalantly that unconditionally trust into the 'Hyur's' abilities. There didn't exist any reasonable proof, that this 'adventurer' here deserved so much confidence... The battle against Tioman didn't truthfully count... Yet, the Dragoon thought highly of him – just as he seemingly did in consideration of the Warriors. Treating that view now as some kind of flattery – for having adapted so much to living as a mortal – went against Midgardsormr's pride, however.  
Without Erik's support, nobody would have trusted that stranger who randomly had saved Cecilia, thus the antiquity saw no right in justifying any egocentric thoughts.  
According to the Lord's mien, he had also been dumbfounded by Estinien's words. But of course Aymeric was rather crestfallen due to his friend's efforts to keep him in the Holy City instead of caring for any possible dragon-slayer-successors. As a result to this, the Elezen reluctantly stated: “If you really insist on it, Estinien... Fine, I'll stay here. Supporting you on the battlefield would be more to my liking, but I guess you would rather behead me instead of allowing that...”  
“He wouldn't be the only one. Actually, before he would have grabbed his Gae Bolg, my Bravura would cut you into pieces.” the Warrior's leader said muted; grudgingly giving Aymeric a gaze full of worry and agony. While the Lord Commander stared speechless at him, Tammy and Bertram patted Erik's shoulder with compassionate expressions. And when Cecilia took her personal brother's right hand in order to squeeze it tightly, 'Midge' realized this flowery threat was actually some kind of love-declaration.  
Alphinaud didn't grasp this discreet detail.  
He innocently opened his lips in order to cheer Aymeric up, but the cynic picked in this moment immediately another target; namely him. “This instruction counts for you as well, schoolboy.” ,Estinien began the teenager's discouragement, “With the Arcanist's legerdemain, it might be possible to defeat several enemies, but Nidhogg is in the end a foe far over the capabilities which you currently possess. If you're not smart enough to understand this, I fear I must lock you in at Count Fortemps' library and throw the key away.”  
“I don't like it, but you're right.” the scholar agreed; surprising everybody else including 'Midge'. Irritated by their gazes, Alphinaud added: “W-Why are you all suddenly staring at me? I'm aware of my strengths – and of my weaknesses, meanwhile. I have learned my lesson. At least good enough in order to know, that I'm more of a help for Tataru in the guesthouse. Or perhaps for Haurchefant or maybe for Augustine. You rather need me to keep an eye on Ishgard instead of being a boulder on your shoulders in Nidhogg's lair.”  
The Warriors gaped guilty at their friend.  
Albeit 'Midge' shared this sentiment of partly betraying the teenager, he knew it was a wise choice. They couldn't look out for a boy – the Aery was far more dangerous than Sohm Al could ever be. Everybody must pay attention to oneself, in first place. Furthermore, Ysayle was this time not around in order to team up with the teenager, thus he'd be only an easy target. For Alphinaud's sake, there existed only this solution.  
Estinien's sharp tongue distracted the adventurers from their gloom: “With all volunteers being now successfully downhearted, we should look how far Cid's corrections of the tiny airships have come. And you better keep up with me, because I won't wait for any slowpokes.”  
Displeased by his grand-cousin's words, Carlos stepped to the door. “We'll see about that. As much as I know, Cid doesn't entrust you with his machines since you tend to treat them disrespectful. Without us, you won't get anywhere.” the Blackmage noticed down-to-earth.  
Harrumphing, Estinien left after him the chamber.  
“Follow them. I'll stay here and see if I can support the temple-knights somehow.” Alphinaud said when the three women looked worried at him; being backed up by Aymeric's enthusiastic smile. Afterwards, Cecilia pulled a sad mien, while Annika and Tammy shrugged resigned. They weren't happy despite knowing what was best for the scholar... “Come, girls. Our two Elezen shouldn't spend too much quality-time with each other.” Bertram stated and gently pushed them to the exit. Snickering, Erik walked right behind them: “Yeah, that's too explosive. If they begin an argument, Ishgard would be raised to the ground.”  
'Midge' sighed and was about to leave the room as well, when suddenly Alphinaud gripped his arm with unusual powerful hands. “I have a request...” ,the boy said with serious sapphire-eyes that stared courageous into the 'Hyur's' irises, “Take care of Cecilia. And I don't mean in case of fighting. Midge, please protect her heart. She's... feeling way too responsible for Estinien's actions. Of course I don't know why exactly she wants to shoulder his duties... All I am aware of... is her opinion about the Eye manipulating him once they start discussing. But when she stays nevertheless close to him... Albeit their friendship is in her eyes a risk... … I beg you, Midge. Stay with her no matter what. When you're with her, Cecilia can take on the whole world.”  
Midgardsormr didn't share the teenager's optimism.  
He might nod in order to calm Alphinaud, but in truth the disguised dragon doubted his presence gave the maiden any emotional strength. Actually, it was just the other way around. SHE gave HIM the endurance he needed for this journey full of obstacles.

Outside, he caught soon up with the others.  
But in the very moment they were in audible reach, Estinien said something surprising: “One day, Alphinaud could become a leader. A good leader, if he continues to gather as much experience as it's possible for him. Thus, we must prevent him from willingly throwing his life away. And the only expedient path for doing so is discouraging him.”  
While 'Midge' stomached this unusual sign of compassion, Tammy shook her head; visibly sulking. “But your method is awful! He's in some aspects still a child and you treat him so extremely harsh!” “If holding hands is to your liking, 'Mom', then why don't you get finally some own children instead of looking out for foreign kids?” ,the Azure Knight countered, “At least you have no excuse when it's for the reputation of future-Dad. He's already perfect material for that job.”  
While the Miqo'te-Bard turned red like a beet and hissed in best possible cat-manner, Bertram lowered his blushing head plus scratched the nape of his neck. “Hm, maybe not entirely perfect... Acting too shy won't help you anywhere.” the Dragoon commented; right before Cecilia slapped him across the face. This didn't seem to bother Estinien – in lieu of him, everybody else stared disbelieving at the Raen, until Erik began to laugh with clear amusement.  
“Must burn when your skin darkens visibly! Hehe... That's what you get for trying to distract others with your rough behavior.” the Marauder recognized chuckling. Half-hearted rubbing the spot where the girl had hit him, the elf calmly beheld her angry expression. She was also eyeballing him, yet the stinging gaze both crystal and jewel gave her friend became worse as Estinien didn't show any kind of remorse or wrath.  
“As if he was doing that just for us.” the Au Ra finally said and walked abruptly ahead.  
Tammy and Annika hurried to keep their friend's pace – 'Midge' stayed with her personal brother despite the promise he had given Alphinaud. There was something on his mind he needed to know... “How much is Cecilia actually able to figure out another person without reading their thoughts?” the dragon quietly asked. Midgardsormr hadn't considered to be heard by anybody else, whereby he twitched when not Erik but Estinien replied: “Too much. Fooling her is almost impossible. So... Yeah, she's right. I try to distract myself, too. That's why I had accompanied you guys to Ul'dah. … I know how much is on the line.”  
Scrutinizing the face underneath the dark helmet, the antiquity asked: “If thou only want to keep thyself in control... Why art thou not openly admitting, that thou hast similar fears like thy allies?” “Because he can't.” ,Carlos nonchalantly responded, “Estinien's weakness is pride. Apart from those who he wants to protect. If he was soft enough to hurt his own dignity, it would be an ridiculously easy spot to hit for Nidhogg. Thanks to that problem, he can only act like a scumbag.”  
“Nobody made YOU my therapist.” the Azure Knight scolded. His cousin shrugged before replying: “You could pay me one-million Gil and I'd still commit suicide instead of tending to your ill head. Also, as long as you refuse being honest with Ceci, I'm not going to clean any of your messes.”  
Confused, Midgardsormr gaped at both Elezen who stared furious at each other, but couldn't find any explanation for their behavior. When Bertram tried to soothe the squabblers, Erik told 'Midge' via telepathy: 'Carlos isn't a friend of secrets. And although he's also no fan of his grand-cousin, there's still this kind of responsibility which makes them a family. Because of that, our Blackmage attempts to urge Estinien to do the right thing. Which is... admittedly a little bit troublesome since the Dragoon's stubbornness knows no end.'  
'What is this secret Carlos does not like? And why is it related to her? Thou art aware of the details, art thou not?' the ancient being questioned skeptical. 'I am, most likely.' ,the Midlander admitted, 'However, it might be annoying for you if I was the one to spill the beans.'  
Exhaling, 'Midge' murmured: 'How indecorous... I care for mortal shenanigans when nothing else could be more unimportant... Nidhogg's revenge is threatening all of thee – as well as peace between our races – and I focus only on thy socializing...' With a wide grin, Erik put his arm around Midgardsormr's shoulders. 'Yes, and I am unchallengeable proud of my old geezer, who proofed to be so formidable in acting humane.'  
Mildly pushing him away, the disguised dragon grumbled: 'This other version of myself might have fallen for thy... let's call it 'charms'. But I for one would prefer to be not praised by thee for mirroring thy mortal facets.' Smirking, Erik patted the vessel's head. 'I know, I know. Only my sister is allowed to do that, right?' Blushing, Midgardsormr couldn't help but pout: 'If thou speaketh again of that devotion-speech thou hast given me once, I will devour thee instead of my next meal.' 'Midge' was astonished when an innocent smile glided over Erik's face. 'Hey, gramps... I am glad you're also existing in this world. You have no idea how much I missed you in general.'  
'Thou art unusual sentimental today... Towards everybody.' the Methuselah complained while they reached the Machinist-Guild. A sad smile flitted over Erik's mien right before Cid welcomed them. 'We're getting close to the day when Aymeric must be protected at all costs. There's much more than only the threat his heritage means. Thordan and his Heaven's Ward are not our greatest enemy when it comes to our Lord Commander.' the Marauder somberly explained while their engineer-friend showed them four completed Manacutters.  
“Each exemplar can carry two passengers, maximum.” ,the wolfish man declared, “To act efficient, I'd suggest you decide now who shares with whom a runabout, so that you guys can teleport directly to the Churning Mist's Aetheryte. You can pick the seating-arrangements howsoever you like, though. The machines could easily hold two Roegadyn at the same time.”  
Nervously, Bertram stared at each little airship before he stated: “I have learned to be careful in consideration of weighting stuff... Annika, would you please join me? These small vehicles make my stomach stir... I need some assurance, that the entire strain for the machine won't be too much.” Giggling like a child, the Lalafell stepped to Bertram's left leg and hugged it. “Don't worry, I would have anyways suggested to share a machine. I know you're always feeling uncomfortable in airships that are tinier than the Enterprise.” she told him happily.  
While the Roegadyn-Paladin exhaled relieved, the Whitemage gave Carlos a derisive smile.  
Mentioned Blackmage shrugged as a response, yet seemed offended by her forthright decision.  
Thereupon, Tammy grumbled playful: “My knight in shining armor is unfaithful, huh... Okay then, let's make the exchange complete!” She grabbed Carlos' right arm; cat-tail curling in amusement about the odd situation. While the Elezen was a bit startled by the Miqo'te's exuberance, his cousin did also something unusual. Reaching politely out for Cecilia, Estinien asked: “Would you condescend to fly with me, Mademoiselle Shirone?”  
Her worried eyes wandered to 'Midge', who also didn't know how to handle this request.  
When her gaze returned to the Azure Knight, her comrade added: “I refuse to share a machine with your mannerless kind-of-brother. So if you do not want to accept my invitation, I will have to steal your Loverboy. Would that be more to your liking?” Disappointment lay soon on these thin lips as the maiden didn't answer. But when Estinien was about to pull his outreached hand back, the Raen grabbed it. A discontented grin spread over her face before she stated: “You could simply tell me, that you feel calmer to fly together to the Aery. It's not like this sentiment would be one-sided.”  
Midgardsormr didn't know, why he felt that way, but seeing her hand in hand with the Elezen made him rootedly sad. There was always this kind of melancholy around them, of course... Yet, this here was worse. Watching, how the Dragoon carefully squeezed her fingers, hurt the antiquity deeply. The sheer emotional pain their choked friendship emitted was even strong enough to manipulate some timeworn thing like him...  
While the Au Ra allowed Estinien to lead her to the airship, Erik quietly comforted the dragon: 'Yeah, they're hard to look at... But try to focus on this... No other human could keep Cecilia as save as he is capable of. At least when it's for facing beasts. You can trust our cynic's determination, blindly.' Taking undecided a seat behind the Hyur, the Methuselah questioned: 'Why would thou willingly give thy personal sister into the Azure Knight's hands? Thou art normally very picky...' 'You will hate the answer, Midgard.' ,the Warrior chuckled devilish, 'Estinien is just as dependable as your race. Even more – he possesses loyalty similar to your own devotion.'  
Huffing, Midgardsormr closed the lids. Why must this annoying mortal admire him... Or rather, why did it feel right when Erik gave him this impolite sympathy... Existing in a humane cage was truthfully ruining the old dragon's worldview to the point where he couldn't tell anymore, for what exactly he tried to cling to draconic manners...

He coughed several times.  
Arms placed on cold metal, it wasn't easy to regain an easeful breath.  
While his head was still spinning, he heard Erik asking: “Everybody okay? No bones broken?” “Probably not. But sheesh, that was a ride...” the Miqo'te-Bard noticed and audibly hopped out of her vehicle. “I will never ever fly again with an airship...” ,Bertram morosely wailed, “If Cid can't put some gear onto my Chocobo the next time we need to break through a wind-barrier, then I must forsake you or you have to carry my lifeless body around.”  
Gazing at him with admittedly blurry vision, 'Midge' watched when Annika patted the Roegadyn. With the sweetest tune possible, she said: “Nah, nah, don't say that. The machine did after all its job, right? We're here – and all alive.” “Still the crash-landing was unnecessary. If these wyverns should dare to attack us again, I won't hold back.” the Azure Knight commented and helped Cecilia out of the runabout despite her clear struggle against the support.  
His hands remained on her hips though she stood already safely on the ground – perhaps, because he was distracted by studying the area. Once she kicked his armored right leg in impatience, Estinien let finally go of the maiden; yet he wanted to know: “Cec, is this your new habit now...? Injuring me whenever you please?” “Since complaining never works, YES.” the Raen replied.  
Before the Dragoon could react, her brother sternly interfered: “Do with him whatever you want, but do it later. The pseudo-weather in this 'great' lair becomes worse – and I don't want to be struck by lightning.” Then, Erik supported Midgardsormr as he was about to climb over the airships. 'Midge' reluctantly thanked him – causing a nerving smirk to appear on the Marauder's face – and approached Cecilia who immediately took the vessel's arm.  
The disguised dragon was bewildered by her action, but began to understand her reason when she bared his skin. That burning underneath his clothing had already confused him since the moment when one of his grandchildren came way too close to the airships... “You're bleeding.” she stated unusual monotonic and healed the wound with swift Astrology-treatment. Beholding the 'couple', Carlos noticed humorless: “Looks like Bertram didn't have the worst luck so far. That's a scruffy cut you have gained on your arm, Midge. But I agree with our leader; we should start moving ASAP. And not only for the funny atmospheric condition we got here.”  
Following the direction of the Blackmage's gaze, the antiquity spotted a weredragon coming closer. It was one of these monstrosities without wings and a rather formless, jagged shape thanks to inadequate proportions. One of those beings who had gone mad in their last mortal days before drinking Nidhogg's blood. Scholars would most likely dismiss his observation as an ordinary theory, but Midgardsormr was sure that no human with an intact mind had ever become in this millennium such an unhandsome creature.  
Erik and Estinien got quickly rid of the unpleasant passer-by.  
The adventurers weren't glad when the Azure Knight went even so far to kill the creature once it was unconscious, yet they couldn't do anything against his waterproof logic: “This was one of us until he or she decided to betray not only Ishgard but humanity. And somebody who chooses to participate in a war against his or her own people is willing to be killed by their hands. Be pacifists towards pure dragons, if you want to, but don't argue with me about these fake-exemplars.”  
Afterwards, the group set off.  
Searching for their true opponent, they got several times attacked by different members of Nidhogg's Horde. In the Aery's exterior, there patrolled mostly wyverns, aevis and amphipteres – for the father of dragon-kind no surprises. But once they happened to travel through the hatchery, things changed drastically.  
Twitching, Midgardsormr was faced with the hideous, agonizing truth, that even children and newborn dragonets were tools in this combat. His heart might already ache by the knowledge, WHAT this part of his succession had become, but seeing now his smallest grandchildren carrying the will-to-fight-until-death made his heart bleed. The Primogenitor was grateful for the mercy his humane allies had with the drakes, but nevertheless his chest tightened whenever an innocent being fell insensible to the ground.  
'Midge's' teeth dug deeply into the tongue when his weapon was the cause for a young descendant to lose consciousness. The child landed on rough stone – bones broke thanks to the impact. Midgardsormr wanted to scream until his throat would be hoarse, yet all emotions were held down with all might. His relative should soon recover thanks to draconic regeneration; there wouldn't be any aftereffects to endure for the little one. However... No excuse justified any damage created by his cursed lance. The mortals' safety had not more meaning to him than his grandchild's well-being. And if he would actually be able to make a choice, than he'd rather allow his descendants to burn his vessel alive instead of harming any of them.  
But the picture etched in his memory... The moment when Tioman injured his girl...  
Midgardsormr fought side by side with these humans because he didn't want to see ever again, that one made of his own flesh and blood threatened Cecilia's life. Whenever a dragon came now close to her, his protective instincts took him immediately over and defended the precious mortal. Naturally, the Methuselah was ashamed of himself for being indescribable weak – he despised the bare fact to side with men when his legitimate family needed him. Still, shielding the maiden meant to support her kind AND peace, thus sacrificing his draconic morales was a small price to pay.  
He would always cut into his very own psyche – harm willingly his own body in the process as well – if it just sufficed to protect the lives dear to him in the long term.  
Once a patrol of wyverns plus weredragons couldn't kill the mortal intruders, unusual quietness accompanied the adventurers when they left the beaten enemies. 'Midge' had hoped for a miracle, but the dreadful atmosphere seemed to tighten with every step he made.  
It was no hazard, that the Horde had stopped to attack them...  
When the group began to climb up several timeworn stairs, he knew for sure why his descendants stayed away... Estinien seemed to be aware of their reason, too, though his purposefulness overshadowed possible fear. If only Erik could be resolute... Unwillingly, Midgardsormr became nervous to behold signs of anxiety in the gruff man's face. What was supposed to happen now? Which path had the following confrontation in Erik's world taken...?  
Reaching the last stair-tread, the Primogenitor gazed with sad, guilty eyes at his son.  
Nidhogg awaited them in the middle of a former courtyard.  
The eyeball he still possessed – the borrowed yellow eye in his left socket – seemed entirely misplaced since Hraesvelgr could never glare like this. Remembering, that everything the wyrm saw would also be visible for his depressive brother, made 'Midge' wonder if there was even a way to convince the white dragon of the adventurers' uprightness... The sensitive one would only be encouraged to continue avoiding humankind if he had to witness another battle which harmed any of his siblings...  
Wrathful words of his attendant child let the Primogenitor refocus on the present: “Tainted mortals! I will burn thy flesh and turn thy bones to dust!” Afterwards, Nidhogg spread his wings and rose with a powerful motion into the air; ready to dart for both healers. But Estinien was faster than him – using the Eye against its true possessor, he forced the Great Wyrm back to the ground.  
An ugly smirk lay on the Elezen's lips when his foe roared in pain to crash onto brick-paving, though that was probably only minor gratification for the hatred lingering in the mortal's heart.  
Maugre quaky legs, Nidhogg stood up and snarled: “Thou want to shackle me with my own power? I did not forget thee, Azure Dragoon! Thou fell once for my influence – if thou art striving against me like this, I shall drag thee into the abyss of desperation! Thee and thy companions!”  
Mentally roaring in Midgardsormr's head, so that Hraesvelgr couldn't hear it, the dark wyrm exclusively told him: 'Watch, how each of them will be disrupted by my own claws! One by one, until nobody remains! Then, thou hast to bend down to thy kind – and pay for betraying us!'  
Angered by the son's accusation, the Primogenitor gave a vibrating growl as response; frightening his child for a short instant. Simultaneously, Estinien declared: “We won't give up! It's time to put an end to this Dragonsong War!” “And you cannot stop us!” the adventurers added in unison.  
Strengthened by the courage his comrades possessed, the Methuselah telepathically spoke to his son with glowing irises: 'Thou hast no right to condemn me. Furthermore, thou thinkest to have ANY privileges to harm these mortals? Thy Tioman hurt the maiden who seeks for peace! That action broke thy promise, which is why I will not even allow thee to touch a single hair of this girl or those who she calls her allies. Thy pledges are as empty as the hole in thy chest.'  
Nidhogg narrowed the lids. While he bared his fangs to respond to the mortals' combative-spirits, the words hidden from them as well as Hraesvelgr stung into the dragon-father's mind: 'My mate did no longer obey me in the moment death was looming over her head. But if this is no reason for thee to realize, that I kept my promise, then I will gladly destroy thy favorite as the very first one. An eye for an eye; a female for a female. Just as the Azure Knight has proven.'  
When the others took their weapons, 'Midge' also angrily gripped his lance.  
'Thou art aware, that Estinien only slayed Tioman because she injured the maiden with the intention to kill her... If thou hast nevertheless decided to harm this child of Hydaelyn, then I will make thee yearn for death.' the ancient drake said with an icy voice. Hraesvelgr's eye in Nidhogg's socket stared disbelieving at him, though the white dragon yonder in these temple-ruins didn't know why his brother was indignant. 'Thou cannot be serious...' a threat which isochronal was still a fear came from the present son's spirit. Irises loosing their aggressive shine, the Primogenitor replied doleful – drenched in agony: 'Yes, I am...'  
Following, a tremble went through Nidhogg's body.  
Immense sorrow took for several seconds hold of him: 'Father...'  
Estinien distracted them when he sent another strong jolt through the dark wyrm's body.  
While the later hissed in anger, the former explained his action with a strained voice: “Don't think about touching my Junior-Dragoon... He's not your personal meal...!” Shaking off the sentimentality their telepathic conversation had caused, the Primogenitor's son returned to his hate-filled attitude with loud roaring, while the Methuselah himself couldn't help but feel touched by the Elezen's care. That this man was actually so capable of holding a connection dear, while he always believably pretended to be numb...  
The elf coughed in alarming manner before he abruptly begged: “Comrades, you have to fight... against Nidhogg... while I suppress some of his powers and a bit mobility with the Eye. I can't... move in the meantime... You must battle with all might... regardless of the consequences... as long as I weaken him.” Estinien plus 'Midge' were surprised when Cecilia gently put her right hand onto the Dragoon's left shoulder once the strained plea had been uttered. “Don't worry.” ,she uttered with a soft smile solely meant for her cynical friend, “We'll hurry to make him incapable of brawling. Your life won't be endangered, I promise.”  
Impulsive, Midgardsormr touched Estinien's other shoulder.  
Thanks to his maiden, he grasped how much this cynical, stoic nuisance here was willing to sacrifice himself if that just sufficed to end the war... Holding the lance in his other hand tightly, 'Midge' stayed next to his senior when Erik and Bertram rushed forward. The tanks were ready to counter Nidhogg's first blow of dark energy – just as the Primogenitor was determined to stay with his mortal comrades until the very end no matter the outcome.  
He wouldn't let them down. This was HIS promise.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

## Note

_I'm still not into typing artist-comments for my written creations – this isn't going to change.  
BUT after accidentally deleting the one I had written for Chapter 10's online versions due to correcting some tiny mistakes in the original .odt-file plus them (no need to worry; I fixed that by now as it's probably better to let you have that little author-statement), I'm giving the readers of this text-mass another 2 Cents considering my own thoughts since the story's progress will become... let's call it exhausting._

_First things first: The 'Notes-file' for this story here is still thirty-four A4-pages long._  
And that's just Heavensward-content. In the shape of simple notes; mostly unfinished sentences.  
I'm not promising to ever reach Stormblood – it's not even guaranteed I get to write down what these little notes are theoretically dictating me to do – yet it's kind of the plan I'm trying to follow. 

_However, the exhaustion I mentioned before won't be the amount of text itself.  
What I'm talking about is the future of my characters; mostly Cecilia, Erik and of course Midgard._

_You'll get to see some more personal background of Ceci – which includes details about her father as well as the reason why Estinien and she are so tied to each other. Also, she'll show over the time several darker characteristics that are usually hidden under her positive nature. 'Praise' Nidhogg for these moments; they won't only happen in the next chapter._

_Her personal brother has a greater role than currently visible, but that's prospective stuff; supposed to happen after the Dragon-song War. But in either Chapter 17 or 18 – depending on how I continue to write the text – you'll learn what happened to Aymeric's counterpart in that parallel-world, whereby Erik is so fixated on changing that key-event which had doomed his own Eorzea. It's not directly fancy plus probably very predictable, but led to alternate-Ishgard's dowfall._

_In case of good old gramps, I fear the story will frustrate you a lot in the upcoming events. For him, frequent mood swings – triggered by finding out new facts – will make his journey quite annoying; and for you as the readers surely nerve-racking. Once you think he isn't impressed by something, perhaps you'll see later how a suppressed emotion takes him over and leads to misled decisions. Also, he's going to struggle more and more with that humane cage considering Cecilia. Since I had started this story with a teenage-rating, too many details won't occur, but the intensity is anyway going to grow with the next chapters. Plus... When you think there's a happy-end within eye-shot... Actually, it's none. It's only a short moment of peace before a true test begins._

_When the story has finished the 3.0-part, so to speak, Midgardsormr is going to be confronted with the limits his own sense of morale allows – and due to his stubbornness, he'll be intolerable enough to create some emotional damage. Not, that Cecilia would be going to act unblamable, though... She's not even half as innocent as the story's beginning implies; mentioned dark personality-aspects are going to rival Nidhogg's maliciousness. If the story makes it to that valley of adversity, you'll be – perhaps – tempted to stop reading the fanfic; I wouldn't blame you for doing so.  
That's the reason, mainly, why I wrote this note here – as a warning for the upcoming ugliness._

_Also, as some kind of junkie in consideration of nice voices, I'd like to give curious English people an example of the way how I experience FFXIV – due to the simple fact that I am a German woman who also plays with having the corresponding dub enabled. Believe it or nor, but we Germans got for Midgardsormr and Aymeric the same voice-actor – and he does at least according to my own, silly ears a good job in doing so: https://youtu.be/uMSwq1Mq-vU  
So, if you ever wondered why I compared once 'Midge's' voice with Aymeric's – that's the answer._


End file.
